


Say It Again

by Bookwormgal



Series: Say It [1]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Car Accidents, Character Development, Diary/Journal, Different Kinds Of Ghosts, Dreams and Nightmares, Enemies to Friends, Family, Friendship, Gen, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Halloween, I See Dead People, Intergenerational friendship, Jerks With Hearts of Gold, Loopholes, Mentions of Death in Backstory, Minor Character Death, Modern Day, Movie Night, Names, Nicknames, Not Romance, Odd Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Poltergeists, Post-Film, Random One-Night Stands, Rules, Summoning, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormgal/pseuds/Bookwormgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to "Say It Thrice."</p><p>Betelgeuse didn't like it when people tried to go back on a deal. But perhaps this once, it was a good idea. He didn't realize she was so young and he did have a few lines. But Lydia still held his attention for reasons he couldn't explain. Maybe he could hang around her just a little longer. She had the potential to be pretty entertaining. And she already knew his name, so why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyNorbert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/gifts).



> Um… Yeah, apparently my brain is almost as good at loopholes as Betelgeuse. I said I wouldn't be writing a sequel for my "Danny Phantom" and "Beetlejuice" crossover story, "Say It Thrice." What my mind apparently interpreted that to mean is that I'll be doing a prequel. Go figure…
> 
> So this is set after the events of the "Beetlejuice" movie. And other than some vague references to the Ghost Zone and such, this doesn't really crossover with "Danny Phantom" enough to really count. You don't have to have read "Say It Thrice" before you start this story. This is a prequel, after all. But I do recommend reading it. There's a lot of world-building and such that might be useful, but not necessarily essential to appreciating this story.
> 
> One of the big things to keep in mind is that I designed this storyline to work with "Danny Phantom" as a crossover originally. So I first moved the timeline ahead a little, placing the events of the film in more recent days instead of the 80s (so things like cell phones exist, but Lydia doesn't own one). And I decided to kind of mush the film with a few little pieces (like Lydia's apparent age and parts of certain characters' personalities) from the cartoon in order to make something that I thought could work with "Danny Phantom" reasonably. 
> 
> The best way I can describe it is that the general events of the movie happened, but with some minor differences. Betelgeuse wasn't quite as lecherous, not as likely to kill the people he was trying to scare out of the house in the process, and was a little less creepy towards Lydia, which makes it easier for him to later form a more friendly relationship similar to what he has with her in the cartoon. Over the course of this story, he'll go from "I'll go through a marriage ceremony with the random girl and then run off the second I'm free" to "she's actually a nice kid and pretty fun to hang out with when no one is sending sandworms after me."
> 
> Then there's Lydia's age. The girl who played Lydia in the movie was about seventeen at the time. But since she was referred to as "a little girl" at one point, it is pretty obvious that Lydia was meant to be younger than that in the film. The actress certainly looked young for her age anyway. One of the guesses about what her age is meant to be (though certainly not the only guess) is between twelve and fourteen. I aimed for the younger end of the spectrum.
> 
> Don't worry too much about it. Just start reading and it'll make sense.
> 
> And just in case you hadn't guessed, I don't own "Beetlejuice," the movie characters, or other elements from the film. Any characters that aren't familiar, I probably created them for the story and you're welcome to borrow them. 
> 
> And with all that in mind, enjoy the show.

He was not in a good mood. After his lovely trip down the gullet of a sandworm thanks to a couple of ungrateful specters and a deal-breaking bride-to-be, he was tossed in the Waiting Room and told to take a number. Then his head was shrunk by a guy who just couldn't take a joke. He read the magazines, flirted with everyone who was even remotely female in the room, and ended up being completely rejected or smacked by them. But he was running out of things to occupy his time with. He could only stay distracted for so long.

The other occupants of the Waiting Room clearly noticed his shifting moods, eventually moving to others seats until his current corner was empty. He'd started out frustrated about the interrupted wedding when Juno dumped him in a chair, but quickly shifted to annoyed sulking and pretending he didn't care about what happened with the impromptu almost-marriage. Then he saw a couple of familiar faces, the Maitlands, walk in the door and get shuffled to the offices before they had a chance to spot him in the corner and before he could give them a piece of his mind. By now, he'd moved on to a nice simmering anger, a hunger for revenge over the broken deal, and a far more dangerous emotion than the rest.

Complete and utter boredom.

He glanced at the number display on the wall. They'd barely reached the triple digits. He quietly cursed in annoyance and frustration with everything. Juno was going to keep him sitting around forever as some kind of punishment. Of course, there was nothing that could actually stop him if he chose to leave early. Especially if he could get someone to let him out.

She _owed_ him. He kept his end of the bargain. She needed to hold up her part of the deal. She was his ticket to freedom and she wouldn't be wiggling her way out of it.

He plunged his hand into the pockets of his maroon tux. He tended to keep a lot of stuff tucked away for future use, regardless of the outfit. The objects hidden away included among other things some business cards with his name, a couple of very entertaining magazines with attractive women, a wad of twine, a small knife, and a few insects that made great snacks (he deeply regretted losing his ring though). And while there weren't really a lot of mirrors in the Netherworld, he'd grabbed one during an earlier visit to haunt the living. With a little searching, he pulled out the long-handled and elaborately decorated hand-mirror he'd snagged at some point in the Edwardian Era.

Scrying with mirrors to see someone back on Earth took some practice, some power, and some focus. And he had all three. As long as he knew who he was looking for and they were near a reflective surface, he could handle it easily. He poured his power into the mirror while thinking about the dark and gothic bride-to-be. With only a little effort, an image began to form.

He saw a bedroom. The walls seemed to be horizontal boards painted white with a purple wallpaper trim near the ceiling, decorated with some lighter plant-shapes scattered across the print. The floors appeared to be green-painted wood. He could spot two small windows in the room with burgundy-colored curtains. One was across from his position and the other was to the right, a radiator tucked underneath that particular window.

Across the room was the bed, jutting out diagonally from the right corner. No headboard or bedposts, but there was a rather comfortable-looking purple bedspread and some nice pillows. There was a small side table on the far side of the bed and under the window. The thing looked like a short elaborate column, though more gothic than Greek in style, and resting on top was a weird plant that probably belonged in a desert. Set behind the bed so that it could dangle above like a spider was a weird modern-style lamp with about three lights attached.

Along the right wall, just past the window and radiator, was a dresser. Made of a light-colored wood, it seemed pretty ordinary. The red skull ornament about the size of a decent pumpkin, however, was a little less ordinary. He seemed to be looking through a mirror on the wall hanging right above a desk made of similar wood to the dresser. But other than a couple of candles and a backless stool, there wasn't much there to hold his interest.

To the far left, almost impossible for him to see at that angle, was the door to the closet. And that's where he quickly turned his focus. Digging through the closet was _her_. The dark and gloomy figure who promised to marry him in exchange for saving the two saps from an accidental exorcism. He'd known from the instant he saw her that there was something about her that he couldn't ignore. And when he actually spoke to the unusual, intriguing, and unfortunately suicidal mortal, he knew she would be important. And what could be more important than a permanent escape route?

He watched her flinch slightly, making him wonder if she'd somehow noticed his spying with her back turned. But that thought vanished as she roughly yanked a red object out of her closet. Only when she draped it across her bed did he realize she'd pulled out the dress he created for the wedding.

Good. That would make it easier to push her towards the right actions if she was already thinking about the deal.

"I got to admit, Babes, it was a good color on you."

Her reaction felt intensely gratifying. Terror swallowed her expression as she shrieked and spun around, searching for him. She recognized his voice. He wouldn't be surprised if she still heard him in the middle of the night, haunting her dreams. He tended to be good at leaving a memorable impression on people.

He saw the instant she spotted him, lurking in the reflection of her mirror. She somehow managed to get a little paler. Of course, she always looked a little on the pale side and the contrast with her black hair and dark clothes made that even more obvious. She mostly looked similar to the last time he saw her, but there were a few differences. She didn't look quite as gloomy and sad overall. Scared of him, yes. But not miserable and about to knock herself off in an ill-conceived attempt to escape her problems. That was probably for the best. He couldn't marry her and get out for good if she was pushing up daisies herself.

"Get out of here,"" she said, clearly trying to sound brave and forceful. "You can't be here. I didn't call you. No one said your name."

"I _know_ no one said it. That's why I've spent a few months in a waiting room waiting for them to call a number longer than the Great Wall of China. Do you know how hard it was to unshrink my head?" he shouted, letting too much of anger and frustration leak into his voice. "I finally got bored with waiting for Juno to yell at me for the millionth time, so here I am."

Realizing how loud he was growing and that he was getting a few uneasy looks from across the Waiting Room, he forced himself to pull back. He needed her to let him out and continue the wedding. He needed to approach things more calmly than that. Scaring her into having a heart-attack or running out of her room screaming wouldn't be very productive towards that goal.

With a flick of power, he blocked any further sounds from reaching the rest of the Waiting Room occupants and tried to adjust his strategy a little. A wrathful poltergeist wasn't the best way to proceed. He needed to treat it as a sales pitch. He needed to be convincing and charming. He needed to talk her into doing what he wanted, remind her of her obligations.

Quieter and using all the charisma he could scrape together, he said, "So what do you say, my blushing bride? Ready to finish what we started before we were interrupted?"

He smiled the same way he did when coaxing other women to join him for an evening of entertainment. Unfortunately, the expression completely failed with her. She looked at him in disgust.

"Not a chance," she said.

"We had a deal," he growled, his temper rising back up again. "Remember? Save the two blockheads from certain doom and you'd marry me. I held up my end of things, right? The annoying couple upstairs wasn't exorcised."

If she wasn't going to be reasonable, he could always turn back to intimidation. He slammed his hand against the glass hard enough for it to rattle on the other side, making her jump.

"Don't you dare back out," he snarled. "Don't you even think about it. You already tried cheating your way out of it once."

"I didn't do anything," she shouted, not backing down in the face of his anger. "You didn't give me the chance. You tossed me in that tacky dress, borrowed my voice, and dragged me around. Barbara and Adam are the ones who tried to stop the wedding. And you kept trying to get rid of them the whole time, which kind of cancels out the 'saving them' thing."

Tacky? That dress was not tacky. Yeah, it wasn't white, but they'd only started worrying about wedding gowns being white about a century ago. There's nothing wrong with a nice splash of color to liven up the pale bride.

Okay, it was a little tacky. But it wasn't really _that_ bad, right? And she really shouldn't be complaining about his rescue of the two losers.

"Hey, it is easier to survive being shrunk down on a model or taking a trip to Saturn than it is ending up in the Lost Souls Room. They would've been fine. I just wanted them out of the way until we were done. That was no excuse to feed me to a sandworm. Do you have _any_ idea how much that stings? Honestly, that's cruel and unusual punishment. And just because they messed up the ceremony doesn't mean you should turn on me. You agreed, Babes."

"Only because I didn't have any other choice."

"Not my fault you were desperate and easy."

"Trust me, I wouldn't have given you the time of day if you weren't my only chance to save them. You're the creep who almost killed my dad."

He blinked at that statement. Mentally he went back over what he was doing before being eaten by a sandworm. He didn't remember doing anything major to the living during the wedding. He freaked them out a lot and sent a couple of the more annoying people through the ceiling, but that's pretty standard.

Unable to figure out what in the world she was talking about, he flat-out asked, "When did I do that?"

"When you turned into a giant snake and dropped him off the stairs. He could have broken his neck," she yelled.

Oh, _that's_ what she meant.

" _Please_ ," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm a professional. Scaring the living to the point of insanity is always more effective than killing them off. Otherwise, not only will Juno and her bosses come down on me like a ton of bricks, but the poor saps who keel over could come back as ghosts themselves and start nagging me. Honestly, it isn't worth the headaches. I'll add exterminations to the sales pitch, but that's just advertisement. Some clients just won't say 'yes' unless they think I'm a full service bio-exorcist. Chuck might've been freaked out, a little battered, but certainly in no danger of joining the deceased."

Not to mention he just wasn't a fan of random murder. It just wasn't his style. If he ever decided to kill someone in the future, he would do because he had a reason. Not because he just felt like it or because he couldn't manage to scare off the living without literally knocking them dead.

"Glad to hear you have a few lines you don't cross, even if you don't do it out of practicality instead of the kindness of your shriveled little heart," she snapped. "Now get out of here before I figure out a way to drown you in soapy water, stuff you in that poofy dress you threw on me, and bury you six feet under again."

"Don't be like that, Babes. You just aren't looking on the bright side of this marriage. You get _me_ ," said the ghost, gesturing to himself with a smirk. "And I get out. Everyone wins."

"Drop dead."

"Too late."

He saw her lips twitch at his response, struggling not to break into a smile at the smart-alecky remark. She was trying to hide it, but she thought it was funny. There was a bit more fire and life in her than the first time they properly met. He rather liked it, nearly getting a smile out of her from a quick joke. It certain fit her better than being a suicidal and depressing wraith wandering the attic.

"You have a bit more spirit in you now than before," he said approvingly. "Still a little dark, but definitely more fun and less broody. Nice to see you coming out of your gloomy shell. I knew there was something special about you, Babes. There was something about you that I couldn't ignore. I knew you'd get me."

"If by 'get' you, you mean I know you're a disgusting, self-centered, con-artist who loves messing with the living, doesn't really care about anyone else, and hates any kind of limitations, then yes," she said sharply, arms stiff at her side. "I 'get' you."

"See? It's like you can read my mind, isn't it?" smirked the ghost, definitely enjoying her more spitfire and strong-willed attitude. "We'll be great together. Though I think you should know I am planning to have what they refer to as an 'open marriage.' I don't want anything to cramp my style and that includes a wife."

They both knew this was a business arrangement for the most part, not something based on emotions and junk. At the end of the day, he was only getting married to the first living female he could because he wanted out. He wanted out and she was his ticket to freedom. It was the supernatural equivalent of a Green Card marriage. He didn't plan to change his afterlife just because he slipped a ring on her finger. He still planned to have a good time. And if she found someone with a pulse who caught her eye, she was perfectly welcome to take the guy home.

"Even if I _was_ crazy enough to let you out and continue that wedding," she snapped, "I wouldn't let my husband sneak around on me with other girls. I deserve more respect than that. It took me a while to get people to listen and pay attention to me. I'm not letting that happen again, even in _your_ crazy wedding fantasies."

She stopped suddenly, looking a little flustered with what she just said. It didn't take a genius to figure out she didn't mean to say that last part about people not listening to her. Even with most of her doom and gloom lifting, there were clearly still sore topics. Honestly, he wasn't surprised. Something must have prompted her to think that being dead was a better option than her life.

But he had no intentions of poking around at her personal problems at the moment. He didn't need to get her distracted. He needed her to focus on the important thing.

They needed to finish the wedding.

"Come on, Babes," he urged. "Don't be like that. I'm not leaving until you keep up your end of the bargain. It'll just be easier to do what you promised. Just say my name and we can get the show on the road."

" _No_ ," she shouted, turning her back on the mirror. "Besides, not only is it creepy, but it's illegal."

"Not if the minister doesn't add the 'until death do you part' section," he called to her with a smirk.

He'd halfway hoped that she'd find some humor in the remark, but she refused to turn around or show anything resembling amusement.

"I mean, I can't get married without my Dad's permission. It isn't legal for me to do it otherwise. It is barely legal even _with_ his permission."

"What happened to all that feminist 'I'm not property and the men in my life don't make the decisions for me' stuff that was going around? I thought women were doing whatever or whoever they want now. Are you really going to let the 'men folk' arrange your life and barter for your hand in marriage while you keep your mouth shut? At least _one_ of us is supposed to be from this century," he taunted.

This time, he got a better reaction from her. She spun around with a frustrated expression on her face. But any enjoyment he got out of pushing her buttons evaporated almost instantly when she snapped at him.

"Yeah and in this century people don't marry _children_ , jerk."

The sound of shouting died away, but he couldn't respond. Not yet. His mind had slowed to a crawl, trying to unravel what she meant. He didn't understand, though a shadow of a thought started to form.

"What?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean 'what'?" she said slowly, sounding almost nervous.

He frowned, trying to turn her words around his head a few different ways. Trying to find the meaning behind what she snapped at him. That shadowy thought began to creep towards the front of his mind, bringing doubts and a horrific realization about something he'd missed.

He didn't know for sure, but the idea was taking root. The possibility existed. If she meant what he was starting to _think_ she meant, then he'd messed up. Badly.

"Babes, exactly… how old _are_ you?"

Now she was frowning, confused and surprised by his question. There definitely seemed to be some miscommunication at some point in proceedings. Some of her anger and hatred seemed to be fading from her expression as she dealt with his question.

And that it certainly didn't help reassure him that he didn't do what he was starting to think he did. If there was a _good_ answer to that question, she would have said her age by now. But he held onto that denial for a little longer. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he was beginning to suspect.

Answering his question with a question of her own, she asked, "How old were girls getting married when you died?"

Grimacing as he thought about those distant days, he said, "That would have been around 1352, so some tended to marry the girls off as soon as they could start having kids practically. Especially the rich ones who were handed over as soon as possible for alliances and heirs. Never thought it was smart, but I never had to deal with them. Those with less money, titles, and nobility tended to wait until around nineteen or a little older. That was a _long_ time ago. I tend to pay a little more attention to modern standards than the one of the past."

She looked surprised by the answer. And maybe a little impressed. There weren't a lot of ghosts his age still wandering around. He knew that a couple of ancient Egyptian guys refused to move on because they were promised a very specific afterlife and they weren't going _anywhere_ until they got it, but they were weird anyway. But even if he enjoyed impressing people, alive or dead, he couldn't let the topic drop. He had to know.

"How old are you?" he repeated.

He saw her hesitate and he knew. He'd almost compare his reaction to getting the wind knocked out, but that metaphor didn't work when breathing was optional. Any annoyance and frustration he had towards the entire situation evaporated and left behind a lot of regret. And some fury with himself.

"Twelve," she answered reluctantly. "I'll be thirteen in about a month, but I'm twelve."

A child.

She was a _freaking_ child.

He tried to make a _child_ marry him.

And when people stopped him, he came back and tried to force her to marry him anyway.

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He… There were no words to describe it. Or there were too many words, all suitably vulgar, insulting, and what he completely deserved. He honestly didn't even know where to start. He tried to marry a _freaking_ little girl against her will just because she was desperate to save a couple of ghosts.

"I just wanted out," he muttered. "But I didn't want _that_. I'm no saint, but I'm not _that_ bad. There's _some_ lines still… I won't…"

He let his hand drop and he started pulling some of his power back out of the mirror. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have tried to talk to her again. He should have just cut his losses and moved on.

There were lines he didn't cross, even after centuries as a poltergeist. There weren't a lot of lines, but they existed.

He didn't go around murdering people, both because it was more trouble than it was worth and because he personally didn't approve of it. Killing just never appealed to him, in life or death. Besides, murder was the most boring and unimaginative way to make someone suffer.

He didn't force the women, no matter how attractive they were, to sleep with him. He had the power that he could do it if he wanted and they wouldn't be able to stop him. And yes, he did sometimes sneak a feel and he definitely wasn't above looking. He wasn't a saint or a priest or one of those other celibate and super-moral guys. But women always had the option to tell him to get lost and smack him. There were plenty more fish in the sea, after all. And there were plenty of those who were far more willing. So why force someone when they were too stubborn to realize what a catch he was?

And he didn't touch children. Children were supposed to be protected. They couldn't defend themselves. Scaring them a little, sure. But not to the traumatic and emotionally-scarring extent that he might try on adults. And nothing worse than that. Never anything too intense. And he definitely didn't think of going after them like he might a grown woman. There were just some things you didn't do.

But that's almost exactly what he'd almost done.

Quietly, she said, "You didn't know."

He felt like he'd been slapped hard at her words. She'd thought he'd known. His eyes popped open and he stared back at the girl.

" _No_. I wouldn't have asked if I did. Did you really think at the time…?"

He trailed off, staring at the girl in horror. The innocent little girl he almost forced into marriage. Did she even have any idea what that generally implied? Her parents seemed kind of dull-minded, so he had no clue what they'd told her about growing up and what grown men like him tended to be interested in.

And if she did know and understand, that might make things worse. Because she would have spent all that time thinking that he'd purposefully asked a child to marry him. Because she would have thought that he probably wanted something more than _just_ a way out. He could easily imagine what she thought was happening that night.

"Of course, you did. I asked you to. You probably assumed I knew what I was doing. No wonder your folks and the Maitlands freaked out. I mean, they wouldn't be happy about it anyway, but… No, I figured you were older than that. I haven't tried guessing the age of the living in a few centuries and apparently I'm _horribly_ out of practice." His gaze dropped as he said, "My reputation might not be the best, but I never intended to…"

"I believe you," she said quietly, interrupting him.

While it was nice that she believed him, it didn't change the facts. And the fact was that he'd managed to sink to a new all-time low. The poltergeist didn't think it was even possible for him to be ashamed of his actions. And yet guilt, regret, and disgust were hitting hard.

The child didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve anything that happened to her. He'd chosen her because for some inexplicable reason, he'd been drawn to the dark and gloomy girl the instant he saw her. And she'd been in the perfect position to make a deal he could use. But it wasn't worth it. He could have ruined her life just because he couldn't judge ages anymore when it came so someone alive.

Pulling more power from the mirror, he said, "Don't worry about the deal. That's over. You deserve it. I better go back so Juno can start yelling properly."

The reflection faded further, but he could still see the girl take a step towards her mirror.

"Wait," she called out.

He ignored her. He should let her get on with her life and forget about that night. And he would try to forget about it too. Juno would chew his head off for this entire debacle and he deserved it. Maybe he should use his wait time to do something useful, like brush up on his ability to correctly guess ages.

He was pulling the last of his power from the hand mirror, letting the image of the bedroom and girl fade. He felt pretty resigned to some creative and horribly-annoying punishment whenever Juno got around to seeing him. He deserved almost any punishment she could devise. But as he let the scrying attempt slip away, a surprise hit him hard.

"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, _Betelgeuse!_ "

While he could resist and delay a summons or banishment for a few moments if he wanted, he didn't get the chance. Pure shock meant he was pulled unprepared from the Waiting Room. He almost hit the ground as he went from sitting on a chair to standing. But with minimal stumbling, he managed to regain his balance and a shred of his dignity.

Uncertain why in the world she would summon him, Betelgeuse stared at the girl. She almost looked like she regretted her decision already, rubbing her arm awkwardly and glancing occasionally towards her green floorboards. Doubt lurked in her face and her posture certainly seemed tense. But the girl also possessed a spark of fire in her eyes that he kept glimpsing, something in her refusing to back down from the challenge. She was taking a chance and nothing would stop her, even her own doubts. He just didn't understand what she wanted or _why_.

Neither of them spoke or moved immediately. They just stood around her room awkwardly. He didn't have a clue why she even yanked him out, so what exactly should he do? He told her the deal was over, the almost-wedding was a mistake, and that she didn't need to worry about him. So what was the problem? What did she want?

He shifted slightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Betelgeuse possessed many impressive traits, but patience wasn't his strongest one. He got bored relatively quickly and easily, even while his emotions were trying to bug him. And he never handled boredom well. Standing around silently while his regret and disgust at his stupid attempted deal rolled around in his head just didn't work for him.

"So… who talks first? I talk first? You talk first?" he asked.

She shrugged and gestured towards the stool beside him. He glanced towards the offered seat briefly, but he couldn't bring himself to be that cooperative and helpful. Listening to and obeying instructions just wasn't in his nature. So instead of using the stool, Betelgeuse perched himself on the desk. The thing looked a little fragile and skinny, but the desk supported his weight without breaking. The dark-haired girl frowned briefly at his actions. She didn't say a word, though.

Kicking his feet briefly, Betelgeuse remarked, "Well, since no one showed up when we were yelling earlier, I'm guessing you're home alone."

"Yeah, Dad and Delia are running errands in town," she said. "The Maitlands are talking to their caseworker about… everything."

Rather than mention he knew they were visiting Juno, he said, "So you call a bio-exorcist, one who caused you some issues in the past? You call him into your home while no one else is around? No witnesses and no backup in case something happens? You're either very dumb or very brave."

"Or maybe I can just tell you're not in the mood to try anything," she said, effectively shutting him up. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she continued, "We both know that the almost-wedding was… a mistake. Some misunderstandings and bad decisions from everyone. So let's start over and pretend nothing after you summoned up that ugly maroon tux happened. We can at least be civil, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, trying to look intrigued while hiding most of his surprise at her odd offer. He ignored the insult to his fashion choices once again, his mind trying to figure out an angle. Because there must be some reason for her to try this. Because nothing else made sense. Deals and bargains would explain why she would risk bringing back someone she knows is dangerous. He already tried to drag her into a situation she didn't deserve once. Why else would she risk it a second time?

He was the Ghost With The Most. People with any sense avoided him. They always had. Only when they needed something did they approach him. Otherwise, he went to them. He went after targets for his cons. He went after attractive ladies he wanted to pass the time with. So what would possess the girl to invite him around to try and… be civil?

If he didn't know any better, it almost sounded like she wanted… something. A clean slate? A second chance? Why? What was going on in her head? Why did the little girl who had every reason to stay away from him decide to summon him?

"We never had a proper introduction, right?" she continued awkwardly. "Things were a little too chaotic for that. My name's Lydia Deetz."

By that point, he didn't even know what to think or feel about the situation anymore. He just decided to go with it and maybe figure out what was going on later. Or he could pretend this entire thing was a really freaky dream.

Shrugging, he said, "Fine. Sure. Whatever floats your boat. You already know my name and everything. Nice to meet you and all that."

She actually smiled a little at that. She didn't really look relaxed, but some of the tension in her posture had eased. She definitely was a strange member of the living. Her smile was kind of nice, though. Especially compared to her original doom and gloom mood.

"Look, I know you did help Barbara and Adam like you said you would," she said, glancing briefly towards her dresser. "And I really don't want to marry you."

"I'm not marrying a kid," said Betelgeuse sharply. "That's over, remember?"

Standing up, she went to her dresser and started rummaging around in it. He watched her curiously until she pulled her fist out again, hiding something from view. The girl then took a few steps forward until she was within arm's reach of him. He could see some nervousness, but that spark of stubborn determination clearly won out.

"Well, my point is that you did something for us and you didn't get what I promised. So… maybe I can make it up to you a little," she said, holding out her hand and opening it.

Lying on the palm of her hand was his ring. Betelgeuse forced himself not to react. The ring had changed its appearance over the century, the poltergeist using his power to keep it up to date with the changing taste in what a wedding ring should look like. But it was the same ring, the one his mother once wore. Over six hundred years, he'd kept that ring safe. In life and in death. It was a ring meant for a wife, something he'd never had. Something with that much sentimental meaning, even to a relatively unsentimental poltergeist, possessed a lot of power over him in the wrong hands.

The child had the ring. And she was offering it back.

"It's yours," she said. "I didn't think you'd want the dress back, but I thought the ring might be different. And you'll probably try to convince someone else to marry you someday, so you'll need it."

He _wanted_ to snatch the ring back up and stuff into his pockets, ensuring that it was safe. He _should_ pick up the ring casually and put it away, acting like he didn't care one way or another. He needed to get it back. It wasn't wise to leave important trinkets lying around where he couldn't keep track of them. And he certainly wasn't marrying the girl, so the ring should go back into his pockets.

But he didn't. That same instinct that told him the dark-haired daughter lurking in the household was important for some reason told him that he didn't need it right now. And that it was safe where it was. After all, who would look for his personal junk in the sock drawer of a child? And he… _wanted_ her to hold on to it.

Maybe it would somehow make up for nearly dragging her down the aisle a little.

"Nah, you can keep it for now," he said, trying to sound casual about it. "If I need it, I know where to look."

A surprised expression crossed her face, but she withdrew her offered hand. Then, shifting her weight nervously as she clearly considered an idea, she took a few steps to the right side of her room and opened the window.

"You wanted out, right?" she said, not facing him. "When it comes down to it, that's what the wedding was about. You wanted out. I know it isn't the permanent escape you wanted, but… I won't put you back for at least a couple of days. And I won't tell anyone that I let you out. So you'll have at least two days hopefully."

He stared at her suspiciously, but she didn't turn and look back. She just stared down at the radiator. He couldn't believe she was serious. She was just… turning him loose on the world? For two days with no one realizing he was running amuck? There had to be a catch.

Betelgeuse stared a little longer and realized she meant it. She suspected it was a bad idea, but she meant what she was saying. The girl was trying to make up for not marrying him like she promised, even after he said the deal was essentially null and void. Two days of running loose away from the Netherworld wasn't much in comparison to complete freedom from his annoying name problem and an all-access pass to the land of the living, but it was more than he expected. How was he supposed to react to _that_?

Any further pondering on the strange child, her offer, and the horrible things he almost did to her out of ignorance were shoved aside as he heard the sound of an approaching car. And from his time hanging out on the model, he knew that the house far enough away from the rest of the locals that it was probably her parents returning. So unless he wanted to hang around to explain that his forced marriage to their daughter was due to a miscalculation of her age, it was probably time to get moving.

"I guess I better make the best use of that time then," he said, moving towards the window.

Though a little small for comfort, he could slip out easily enough. Aiming a little power to compress the surrounding walls and make the radiator flatten down, he turned the opening into something nearly the size of a door. Her eyes widened in shock at the trick. He responded with a smirk. She'd seen him do a few similar stunts, but the novelty still hadn't apparently worn off.

"See you around, Lyds," Betelgeuse said, stepping through the altered window before shifting it back and leaving her behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to let you know I spent way too much time trying to figure out the layout of Lydia's room. You see it at two points in the film (when the Maitlands are trying their sheets trick and when Lydia is writing her suicide note). And for a while, it seemed like they didn't match because the walls were completely different. But then I figured out that the wall with the door and mirror on it is an accent wall and is completely covered in wallpaper while the other three walls have the horizontal white boards across them and a (matching) wallpaper trim near the ceiling. The fact I spent so long working everything out for what her room looks like is definitely proof I'm insane.


	2. Out on the Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in continuing to prove that I'm insane, I spent a lot of time staring at that model. I wanted to try and figure out where various points of interest were in Winter River. The Maitlands house is the easiest to spot, a building on top of a hill outside the main town. There's at least one other building on that side of the river, which runs parallel to the town. The church is pretty obvious, there are some colorful buildings that look more like businesses, the houses, a fenced-in field with livestock, and the main street that runs the length of the model. And at the farthest point from the Maitlands house, with a semi-circle road that leads to and away from it, is the school from the end of the film. The locations of some of the other features (like the cemetery) are harder to pin down precisely in the overview of the model, but we know they're there somewhere.
> 
> Sufficient to say, I am trying my best to make this story work correctly with the information provided in the film. Hopefully you'll enjoy the effort and like the tale.

Lydia didn't move as he reshaped her window and radiator like clay and stepped out the opening without any concern for the fact her room was on an upper floor of the house. He just casually walked out on empty air and restored everything behind him. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief and relax a little. That was nerve-wracking.

Yes, she believed he honestly felt bad about the almost-wedding. Yes, she suspected from his reactions that there was more to the ghost than his unpleasant and uncaring exterior. And yes, she wanted to make sure he understood she didn't blame him for the age mistake. She wanted him to know she believed him when he said he didn't know. And yes, there was just something about the strange and unusual ghost that made her want to learn more about what he was below the surface.

But that didn't change the fact he was dangerous, powerful, and not afraid to make unscrupulous deals with a desperate young woman at a steep cost. Because she couldn't ignore that even if he thought she was older, he _did_ try to marry someone who didn't have many other options at that moment. He might not be a complete monster like she original believed, but he wasn't a saint either. Caution was better than blind trust.

Of course, she was already risking a lot by trusting Betelgeuse as much as she was. She sank tiredly onto her stool and tried to shake off her doubts.

She'd just turned a ghost loose on the world for two days without anyone to stop him. She was basing her decision on how he reacted to the news of her age and her hope he was honest about not randomly killing people. Part of her wanted to say his name again and send him back before something horrible happened. But Lydia knew she couldn't do it. She said he would get two days and she'd already figured out he took deals seriously. She was trying to trust that letting him out wouldn't end in disaster and she couldn't break her word to him. He was right. She _owed_ him for helping the Maitlands. Lydia couldn't forget it and needed to make things right. So she would repay him with trust.

No matter how bad her decision might turn out to be, she needed to stick with it.

The front door opened and she heard her parents talking downstairs. Well, one of them was talking at least. Delia spoke the most, talking about her latest inspiration enthusiastically. Occasionally Lydia heard her father provide a noncommittal noise or vague agreement, but the woman was on a roll. And when she was in the mood, she barely needed any response from her audience.

Delia might have improved a little in not stressing out over status symbols, didn't always act self-centered, and didn't try to control every single detail of their lives, but she could still get very caught up sometimes in her interests. The difference was that the woman would come back to reality and listen when Lydia tried to speak to her. Just like her father would give her concerns more weight and importance than in the past rather than trying to brush them off because of his personal goals. Or how he thought she just refused to give anything a chance like he tended to in the past. Who would have thought that a horrifying haunting incident would improve family relationships?

"Pumpkin, we're home," called Charles from the ground floor. "Your mother says she's going to start dinner in about an hour."

" _Step_ -mother," she corrected under her breath, the reaction automatic by that point.

"Is there anything in particular you want to eat?" continued her parent.

Reaching over to open her door slightly, Lydia called back, "No, thanks. Tell Delia to surprise us."

"All right," he said. "Are Adam and Barbara still gone?"

"Yes."

"Well, make sure you study anyway. You have a science test coming up, right?"

Considering she'd had far more important matters on her mind than school that afternoon, Lydia just rubbed her eyes tiredly and said, "Yes. Got it."

"Good. Love you, Pumpkin."

"Love you too," she said, smiling slightly as she spoke.

She pushed the door closed again. Her thoughts slowly turned back to the tense encounter and everything that happened. While considering his various reactions to things she'd said or done, Lydia found herself toying with the ring in her hand. Betelgeuse left the wedding ring with her even after claiming that marriage was off the table. Even if he could create or change things with his power and could possibly make a new ring if necessary, he still left a gold ring with what looked like a real diamond. That was something worth a decent amount of money. There had to be a reason why he left something valuable with a random preteen. He'd hesitated before telling her to keep it, so she knew the decision wasn't as casual as he made it sound. She just didn't know what it meant.

Almost without meaning to, her fidgeting with the ring resulted in her slipping it on her right hand. Lydia didn't immediately yank it back off when she noticed. Instead, she looked at it. As long as she didn't have it on the left hand on the ring finger, it didn't have as many negative and weird connotations. And it was pretty in a simple and classical way. Betelgeuse definitely had better taste in jewelry than he did in dresses.

Twisting the ring around her finger, she realized she rather liked how it looked on her. It just seemed to belong. Unless and until Betelgeuse asked for the ring back, she might just start wearing it around. Hiding it at the bottom of her drawer some more would be such a waste. Her dad and Delia probably wouldn't even realize where the ring came from. And if Barbara or Adam recognized it from the wedding, Lydia knew she could explain things to them in a way they'd understand. Even with the improvements in her family, she still related better to the Maitlands.

Movement from downstairs, which was probably Delia getting materials for her next art project together, interrupted her thoughts on the ring and Betelgeuse. Lydia reluctantly admitted to herself that she probably wasn't going to figure out any answers about that ghost that afternoon. And her dad was right. She should try to do some studying for her science test. The "C" she got because she refused to dissect a frog meant she couldn't slack off if she didn't want to disappoint Adam and Barbara when they got back. Leaving the ring in place, Lydia reached for her backpack to start hunting for her textbook.

* * *

Betelgeuse would be the last guy to complain about getting out, especially when he didn't even need to waste time tricking and conning someone to set him loose. And since someone alive let him out, he didn't need to worry about the limits of someone's haunting perimeters. He could do anything and go anywhere he wanted. As long as the girl kept her word, he had a two-day pass and he intended to enjoy it.

Too bad she lived in the middle of nowhere in a tiny town with almost nothing resembling entertainment.

The poltergeist took his time to examine the real version of the model town he'd already explored. The Maitland and Deetz residence was perched on the top of a hill and overlooked the rest of the town. A long and winding road led the way down and passed only one other building before reaching the red covered-bridge. Everything else in the town was on the far side of the river, meaning the family was definitely on the outskirts.

But it all seemed so _boring_. He saw the classic white church that was practically required for small and close-knit communities, a barbershop, an out-of-business hardware store, a small-name grocery store, a few other mom-and-pop stores that sold various goods and services, and a small movie theater with three screens. He saw a bar, but it was pretty seedy-looking and he doubted there would be many available women inside, so what was the point? He could snag some ice cream or poke around the bookstore in the hopes there were some magazines with rather graphic pictures, but he wasn't that desperately bored yet.

Honestly, the town felt too peaceful and picturesque to deal with. No wonder the Maitlands made a model based on it. The quiet and quaint houses that ran along main street looked like oversized toys. Even the field of cows he passed on his right looked too perfect, like something from a milk commercial. By the time he reached the girls-only school at the other end of town from where he started, Betelgeuse knew that the inhabitants of Winter River were absolutely boring.

He'd also quickly established that the Maitlands weren't the only local specters. Detecting other nearby ghosts took a little practice, but any half-decent dead guy could learn it. And six hundred years gave him plenty of experience sensing supernatural stuff. There were a few ghosts scattered around, especially in older houses and buildings. There were more ghosts in the world than most people would suspect, especially since there were billions of people on the planet and people died every day. But unless they were particularly powerful or exotic ghosts, he would need to be relatively close to pick up on their presence and would probably miss a few of them.

Betelgeuse still made a mental note for the future just in case he needed someone else to con into summoning him. New ghosts were easier to trick than more experienced ones, but he was also pretty convincing. It paid to keep track of potential saps. Not to mention some of them might be attractive and lonely women.

Lydia would probably run into the other ghosts in town soon.

Betelgeuse drew up short. Where did _that_ thought come from? Why was he even thinking about the girl? Yes, she let him out for no obvious reason, but that shouldn't really mean anything to him. And it shouldn't distract him while he was trying to find something fun to do. She was crazy. She wanted to make up for him not getting anything out of the deal. She didn't want him mad at her. End of story.

Of course, he left his ring with that child. Betelgeuse still didn't know what possessed him to let Lydia hold onto his mother's wedding ring. He was crazy, but not stupid. He might act impulsively when he felt like it, but not when it came to more important matters. Or things _he_ considered important, at least. Leaving it with a child, even one who acted crazy enough to summon him freely after a close encounter with his haunting skills, just didn't make sense. His decision seemed just as unexplainable as her attempt to be… _nice_ to him.

He shook his head sharply, trying to banish the entire situation from his mind. He had two days and he wouldn't spend that entire time trying to figure out what was going on with that girl. He already spent more time thinking about the child he nearly married and that entire confusing, unpleasant, and messed-up conversation than he ever wanted. So Betelgeuse turned around and headed back towards the slightly-busier part of town as darkness fell.

"I miss Dante's," he muttered under his unnecessary breath. "Those ladies know how to make a guy feel welcome. Too bad there isn't a full-sized version around here."

He returned to the seedy-looking bar, a bit off main street and barely recognizable as operational from the outside. The old brick building sat tucked between a couple of other nondescript buildings and seemed fairly ordinary, though the lack of windows, the small sign with a pool table on it, and the noises from inside made it clear that even the boring town actually had a bar for the people who tried to drown out the monotony with alcohol. The parking lot turned out to be a patch of gravel where the various cars and trucks tried to form straight lines. Most of the vehicles were plain and practical, but he spotted a couple of sports cars that either belonged to a spoiled rich young man or woman who felt like slumming it for the evening or an older guy desperate to recapture his youth. Or someone overcompensating for something.

Betelgeuse studied his options carefully, trying to decide which vehicle to "borrow." He could always alter the car or truck into something more suitable for the Ghost With The Most, but he still wanted to pick the perfect target. Ideally, he should select one that would belong to the owner most likely to get blindingly drunk and would be too confused to properly notice the theft. The confused drunk wouldn't be able to prove the crime to anyone and would be forced to walk home while he sped off to another town in search of real entertainment. A little low-level chaos and a chance to locate a strip club somewhere outside of Winter River would certainly leave him as a happy poltergeist.

As he narrowed down his options to two cars, the noises from the bar abruptly increased in volume. And based on the higher-pitched voice shrieking angrily, he was clearly wrong when he assumed there wouldn't be that many women inside. Betelgeuse decided to check out the disruption and enjoy the show. He could always steal a car later.

Within a few moments, the door crashed open and a man in a blue flannel shirt and a baseball cap stormed out. Chasing after him in a storm of fury, insulting "Rick's" cheating tendencies and parentage at full volume, was a blonde woman wearing very tight and revealing clothes. A second one, a red-head with similar clothing choices, ran out and joined Rick in his truck. Betelgeuse watched as the furious, drunk, and loud blonde screamed at the other two until the truck peeled out of there, kicking up gravel and leaving her behind.

Betelgeuse smirked as the heart-broken, furious, and drunk woman continued to snarl vulgar descriptions of what a kind of scum the man was. He knew exactly the sort of bad decisions someone in her position tended to make. It was practically a recipe for women tossing aside inhibitions and latching onto the first male to cross their path.

He did hesitate briefly as the blonde woman continued to spew insults into the night, remembering his recent mistake. Age just wasn't easy for him to judge anymore. If someone was very short, the girls were still completely flat-chested, and the boys weren't growing facial hair, then he could tell they were kids. If there were lots of obvious wrinkles and gray hair covered their head completely, he could tell that someone was considered old. But anything in between and he was guessing blindly. Lydia turned out to be a child, but she had some slight curves and he'd guessed wrong. So he should try harder to make sure he picked the right age in women from now on.

Of course, if he remembered right, the fact blondie came out of a bar while drunk enough to smell the alcohol on her from a pretty good distance meant she was definitely an adult or _really_ good at tricking people. So that was probably close enough.

He took a moment to switch outfits, using his power to replace the sand-covered tux with a red shirt with a brown jacket and cap. Then he decided to make his presence more obvious.

Some people could see ghosts with no problems. The specters from the Netherworld couldn't hide from them. Some were naturally able to notice ghosts immediately while others picked it up after exposure to some particularly intense haunting and encounters with the supernatural. But that was a very small number of people overall. _Most_ wouldn't see ghosts. Almost all of the living was oblivious and blind to the dead's presence. And there wasn't much ghosts could do to make the living see them without doing some major haunting tricks first.

But poltergeists weren't normal ghosts. They were harder to ignore, their presence more solid and obvious to the living. The living could and often did still ignore poltergeists. But if a poltergeist wanted to be seen, they _would_ be noticed.

He may have been perfectly fine staying out of sight while he explored the town, but the time for that was over. With a little concentration, Betelgeuse shifted into a more visible and solid range. The darkness and drunkenness of the woman would ensure she wouldn't ask too many questions about where he came from or noticing his general deadness. It wouldn't get him a marriage, but he'd tried similar methods to get a woman's companionship in the past and he knew it could work.

"So that Rick guy is a real jerk, right?" he said casually, startling the furious woman into spinning around. "Cheating on someone like you? With that red-haired ditz? What was he thinking?"

"He thinks he can get away with anything," said the woman, wobbling a little due to the alcohol and high heels. "He thinks that he can sleep with anyone and I won't care a bit. But he can't. I deserve better."

"Of course you do, Blondie," he said. "I'll bet you anything he'll come crawling back to you in the morning, begging for your forgiveness."

Laughing sharply at the idea, she said, "Like I'd take him back after that. I don't need him. I could have any man I want."

"That's right," he said, grinning at her as he stepped closer. "Do you really want to show Rick that you don't need someone as pathetic as him?"

"I don't need him. I could have any man I want, whenever I want," said the woman stubbornly. She eyed him as carefully as she could through the drunkenness and darkness of the night, she said, "I could even have _you_ if I wanted. That would show him. He goes off with that red-haired man-stealer and I get someone else immediately. Someone better."

"Exactly. And getting someone like me would make anyone jealous. So what do you say, Blondie? Want to show me back to your place and make that Rick guy wish he'd never met that other woman?"

With a hungry and aggressive expression taking over her face, the blonde woman grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. Betelgeuse felt a grin cross his face. A woman scorn may have a lot of fury, but he also knew they tended to have a lot of passion and enthusiasm when properly directed towards more pleasurable activities.

He was definitely going to have a fun night now.

* * *

"So things have settled down since the incident," said Juno as she peered at them from across her desk. "No more problems or disturbances since the 'wedding' disaster?"

Barbara shook her head, holding onto her husband's hand. She still didn't feel completely comfortable with the strangeness of the Netherworld. Granted, they only caught glimpses outside of the building, but it was enough. There was a darkness that clung to the place, never showing a hint of sunlight or daytime. Angles were often unusual and distances didn't seem to add up. And then there were the dead themselves. She and Adam were lucky. Their demises didn't leave that much evidence. Some could barely move and were trapped in mangled bodies. Barbara simply didn't feel comfortable in the shadowy and strange place.

But they had to come sometimes. They were dead and Juno was their caseworker. So when the woman left a card with a time for an appointment, she and Adam knew it was best to show up. Especially since she wanted to follow up on the "Betelgeuse" fiasco.

She pushed her hair back briefly, her thoughts skipping back to that night. She remembered the unpleasant sensation of crumbling apart as something pulled at her, trying to force part of her somewhere else. And she knew where the exorcism nearly sent her; she remembered the horrifying and unnerving view behind that door. The Lost Souls Room. Death for the dead. She knew that she and Adam came close to suffering that fate and all because of an accident.

And she remembered _him_ showing up, disrupting and terrifying the rest of the people in the room before doing _something_ to break off whatever was pulling them away and making them crumble apart. She didn't know how Betelgeuse did it, but he stopped it in time. But there was a cost. And the one who nearly paid the price was Lydia.

"And you've settled things with the Deetz family so that there will be no further issues, correct? They're reading their book?" asked Juno.

Adam nodded and said, "That's right. We're all still working on understanding everything in both books, but Lydia seems to know what it is talking about. And we're all living together in the same house peacefully."

She couldn't help smiling at the mention of the girl. Barbara adored her and Adam felt the same way. They'd wanted children. Even before they died, they'd wanted children and she'd feared it would never happen. And now they were dead and it was definitely impossible. But then Lydia came into their afterlives. She loved dark and spooky things, she was sweet, she was smart, and she cared deeply. Of course, she could be sarcastic and cynical at times and she certainly still had the occasional issue with her parents, but she was a good person and far more cheerful than when they first met.

The one good thing about being dead was that they got to meet Lydia. If they hadn't died in that accident, they would have never met her. And she wouldn't have four parental figures who loved her so much.

"Good. Fine. If all of you can keep from causing too much trouble, then I'm glad the five of you sorted things out. I have some forms I'll need you to fill out since you have three of the living aware of your existence and such, making their silence your responsibility," continued Juno. "Of course, most of the time they're smart enough to keep quiet to avoid being locked in an asylum. But if someone doesn't already know about the supernatural and ghosts, then they aren't allowed to."

"We'll make sure they understand," Barbara said.

Lighting up another cigarette, Juno said, "Good. You and your husband have already stirred up enough trouble. Thank goodness you interrupted that wedding. Though how in the world you managed to ride a sandworm across your haunting perimeters to stop him, I'd love to know."

"What's going to happen to… _him_?" asked Adam.

"First, he's going to stay in the Waiting Room for as long as I can keep him there," Juno said, blowing a cloud of smoke. More smoke continued to trickle out of the slit in her neck. "For someone who hates boredom as much as him, that'll be torture. Then we'll have a nice and long discussion about why coercion of a minor to marry him and resorting to voice mimicry to get it finished is not tolerated. If someone alive is crazy enough to marry him, that's fine. It isn't my job to talk sense into the living. Marrying someone underage and unable to make the decision of her own freewill is not allowed. She _did_ try to call it off, as you said. And he would not let her speak. There are limits to what he can do to get it done." She paused briefly to roll her eyes in annoyance and muttered, "That idiotic poltergeist just doesn't know when to give up. I swear, he's _trying_ to push things too far just to make my job harder. I know it."

"So he won't come after us?" asked Barbara. "I'd be pretty mad if I were him."

"Well, honey, you did sort of feed him to a sandworm," Adam reminded gently.

She smiled proudly and said, "Okay, that was a little satisfying. Especially after he tried to look up my dress the first time we met."

"Don't worry about him," said Juno. "By the time I get around to his number, he'll be angrier with me for making him wait so long. And once he's dealt with whatever punishment I manage to bargain for him, he's not going to have the time to go after you. And I'll make sure he understands that if he sets foot in that house, he's going to lose any leniency he might be lucky enough to receive."

While not happy about the idea of the ghost who tried to marry a twelve year old getting any form of leniency, Barbara felt herself relax a little. Betelgeuse might be a slimy, creepy, con artist of a ghost, but he was also more powerful and more experienced than her and Adam. They were lucky enough to get rid of him in the past. If he tried to come after them for revenge, he would almost certainly succeed. But if Juno thought he wouldn't be a problem anymore, then she would trust her judgment.

"All right. Enough about him," said Juno firmly, pushing a stack of papers across her desk. "I need you to fill these out before you leave. And I highly suggest you actually read them rather than just sign blindly. It is important for you to understand what you're agreeing to, after all. I've seen what happens when the dead don't read the fine print."


	3. Snooping

He had to admit. Not only did the blonde have plenty of excess energy born of fury and spite that translated into a very exciting evening, but she also had a pretty comfy and durable bed. That Rick guy was either an idiot or the red-head must be _very_ good at what she does. As in "she would work at Dante's Inferno Room if she was dead" level of good.

Maybe he should track down the red-haired woman later. For comparison purposes.

Regardless, the blonde woman clearly didn't care about names, was enthusiastic enough that she didn't bother with the lights and barely waited until she made it to the bedroom, and was too drunk and desperate to notice any oddities about him. Like the mold on his face as she kissed him hungrily. Or the cooler skin as she tore at his shirt. Or the lack of a heartbeat as she pulled him close. Even if he ensured she could see and touch him, the living ignored the strange and unusual. Especially when the living ended up dead drunk and focused on more basic desires.

But after a lot of pleasurable and vigorous activities that left everyone involved very satisfied, things finally quieted down. The blonde woman slept heavily, wrapped in her tangled silk sheets and the remaining effects of the alcohol ensuring she wouldn't rouse easily. He slept a while himself, enjoying her comfortable bed and satisfied by a very nice evening. But he managed to wake up by the time daylight started peeking through the cracks between her curtains and Betelgeuse started thinking about what to do next.

He could try waking the woman up and seeing if she was up for another round or two. But she would be sobering up and probably would have a nasty hangover waiting to hit her. That would certainly sour her enthusiasm a bit. Besides, he didn't need to be too greedy.

Another option would be to head out and find someone to mess with for a while. Not a proper, full-out haunting gig. Why do something for free that he generally bargained and swindled people to hire him to do? But freaking people out and annoying them on a smaller scale was just fun. Making the living twitch and get frustrated over random and unexplained events could be hilarious. A little petty mischief could be oddly satisfying at times and certainly wouldn't be enough to get on Juno's radar.

He could also use the chance to hand out his business cards to some people, alive and dead. Getting his name out there and known made it easier for him to _stay_ out. Sneaking cards into the different copies of "The Handbook for the Recently Deceased" was getting harder, even with his experience and his power. He needed to plan for the future. Lydia wasn't going to leave him loose forever.

Betelgeuse briefly frowned as his mind returned to the thought of the child. The girl just didn't make sense, no matter how many excuses or vague explanations he came up with for her behavior. She wasn't stupid. He knew she wasn't a complete moron like some people he tricked. She _knew_ summoning him could end badly. And he already let her out of the deal, so she literally had no reason to risk it.

She had nothing to gain and everything to lose. Lydia had no real benefit from wanting to try and be _civil_. There was no real reason to let him out for two days. There was no deal where they both got something and if she wanted to con him, he didn't see her angle. This was practically _charity_.

People didn't voluntarily give him something or do something for him without expecting a beneficial result for themselves. Tricking someone or conning them often worked, but people didn't purposefully give something for nothing. It didn't happen. At least, not for him. _Never_ for him. He did his bio-exorcism jobs, trading haunting skills for a chance to get out and have some fun. He tempted women into sleeping with him, both parties enjoying themselves quite a lot. And he bargained for an ill-conceived marriage attempt in exchange for saving a pair of ghosts. Anything he got, in life or death, there was a price or a clever trick involved.

But Lydia didn't ask for anything in exchange this time. Nothing at all. The child offered him a chance to do whatever he wanted for two days among the living, something he wanted and certainly enjoyed. No strings attached as far as he could tell. She didn't have to do it. She offered it as… a gesture of goodwill. A gift. And that idea bothered him more than it should. It bothered him almost as much as it did that Lydia managed to inexplicably capture and hold his attention from the moment he saw her. Betelgeuse really wished he knew what to think about the young, dark-haired, and unusual girl. And he wished that he knew why he couldn't _stop_ thinking about her.

Shifting away from the unconscious blonde woman on the bed, Betelgeuse rolled his neck until the sounds of cracking bones filled the air. He should definitely do something about the situation. Lying around and thinking in circles about the girl was pointless without more information. He couldn't keep driving himself crazy. Not to mention the distraction was taking up time he could be using for more entertaining ventures. The smartest course of action would be to find out more about the child so that he could properly figure out what made her tick. And maybe knowing more would undo his fascination with her.

With that particular course of action decided on, more or less, he turned his attention towards making his exit. He climbed off the bed without a word, leaving the woman sleeping off the effects of her night. Betelgeuse spared a moment to snag his clothes from the floor, though he had a harder time locating his shirt since she'd apparently thrown it over the lamp in the corner at some point. He rolled his eyes at the buttons she'd torn off in her enthusiasm. Maybe Rick started straying because of the damage to his wardrobe.

A quick twist of his power later and his clothes were back on and repaired. He took a brief moment to also fix the cracked picture frame they'd manage to hit on the way towards the bed the night before. The less evidence he left behind, the better it was for everyone. And finally, he slipped back to his more normal "most living won't see the dead" state.

The blonde woman _might_ remember what happened, regardless of how much she drank, but she wouldn't be able to prove anything and might pass it off as a dream. Or she might just decide he's a jerk who snuck out without a word. Either way, she would at least get to avoid some of the issues that could come up from a one night stand. No chance of pregnancy, diseases, or anything like that. All the benefits and fun of sleeping with a guy with six hundred years of experience at it and none of the possible drawbacks.

Straightening out his brown jacket a little, Betelgeuse turned and left the bedroom. He had better things to do now. Like a little invasion of a child's privacy.

* * *

Lydia tried to focus as her teacher droned on about the current math lesson, but her thoughts continued to turn over results of the rumor mill. Or the lack of rumors. There was no faster way of spreading news than through gossip of teenage and preteen girls. Even if she was still the newcomer and outsider in the small community where everyone literally grew up together, Lydia could certainly overhear plenty in the all-girls school. So she should have heard something.

There wasn't any news about a mass hallucination, police responding to strange emergency calls, insanity, destruction, chaos, or anything that could be connected to a haunting or Betelgeuse. Lydia expected to hear rumors of some type. From what she knew, he was not a subtle ghost. She honestly wouldn't have been surprised if half the town spent the night screaming about giant snakes and monstrous things in the dark. But Lydia didn't hear a single whisper. And the lack of rumors about his activities the night before made her worry and wonder.

Scratching down the information from the board into her notebook next to doodles of bats and spiders, Lydia's mind continued to wander. If he wasn't running amok and terrifying the population, what was Betelgeuse doing all night? Was he looking for someone else to marry, someone older and also willing to make a deal? There couldn't be that many blushing brides available for the ghost. Or maybe he just went out drinking or whatever dead guys did during a night on the town.

She heard a whisper a couple chairs back and Lydia paused to listen. After a moment, she realized it was just another complaint about how bored they were by the lesson. While Lydia certainly agreed with the assessment, that didn't mean she wanted to hear about it a dozen times.

It wasn't that all the girls in her classes were cruel and heartless monsters or something. There were plenty of decent and even nice girls at the school. She could get along with some of them and a couple of girls were fairly friendly towards her. But Lydia knew she was still the outsider. She didn't fit in with all these girls who knew each other for years. They shared too much history for her to easily find a place among them. And finding common ground just wasn't easy.

What were the chances of any of these other students understanding what it was like to live with ghosts? Or understanding what it felt like to nearly get married to a dead guy, trying anything to save people she cared about by bargaining herself? Even if she could explain the Maitlands, Betelgeuse, and the events of that evening, none of them would be able to really understand. Finding someone with similar life experiences seemed impossible.

For all that things had changed and improved for her in recent times, Lydia still felt like it was easier to relate with the dead than with kids her own age.

The teacher sketched out another math problem on the board and Lydia focused back on the dull lesson. The town wasn't on fire, no one was running through the streets in a terrified panic, and no one was getting married as far as she could tell. She might not know what Betelgeuse was doing, but it clearly wasn't too bad. Maybe letting him out wasn't the potential disaster she feared. Maybe she was right and he wasn't quite as bad as he seemed.

* * *

Breaking into a young girl's bedroom, even when it rested on an upper floor of the building, was easily within his capabilities.

The first step, of course, was to scout out the area he was trying to sneak into. Other than the pale auras of the child's living parents and the surprising amount of power the resident ghosts invested in their model, there was absolutely nothing supernatural registering inside the house. The Maitlands clearly weren't back yet. But the pale auras of the Deetz couple were still brighter than most of the living, warning they'd been exposed to enough paranormal activity that they would definitely see him now just like Lydia naturally could. Marching straight through the front door ran the risk of drawing attention to himself and getting kicked back to the Netherworld early.

So Betelgeuse used a bit of stealth with his approach. He chose to return the same way he exited previously, reshaping her window until it was open and large enough to step through. He also took the time to slightly alter the walls to make them sound-proof. He nodded briefly at the result, satisfied that the parents shouldn't notice the adult dead man in their daughter's bedroom.

Betelgeuse then turned his attention to the room itself, pondering where to start looking for answers about the girl. The desk against the one wall covered in dark wallpaper was a small piece of furniture, but there were some tiny drawers that she could tuck pencils and paper out of sight. Her closet offered other options, like how she hid away the red wedding dress. But the fact she kept the ring in her dresser made him suspect that she kept her more personal objects inside.

Decision made, the poltergeist started rummaging around her sock drawer. It didn't take long for his fingers to brush against a few solid objects buried under her clothes. Betelgeuse quickly pulled everything out and perched himself on her bed.

Snagging a beetle crawling across his shoulder and popping it into his mouth, he started sorting through her belongings. The lack of ring suggested Lydia either hid it somewhere else or was actually wearing it at the moment, an idea he honestly didn't know how to feel about. But he found a few interesting trinkets, like a spider-shaped brooch, a pair of bat-shaped hairclips, and a charm bracelet covered in silver stars and crescent moons.

She also kept an old matchbox about the size of his palm, painted purple with her name written in red by a childish hand. Sliding it open, Betelgeuse saw the random treasures that the smallest children might collect simply because they caught their eye and not because of any tangible value. The matchbox included a black feather, a bottle cap, a smooth and gray rock, a piece of red ribbon, a blue marble, and a bracelet made of rainbow-colored plastic beads strung on a bit of yarn. While clearly a glimpse of her past, none of these objects really provided much insight.

Crunching on the beetle between his teeth, he moved on to a couple of pictures and a newspaper clipping of the Maitlands' obituary, which also included a photo. In one of the pictures was Charles wearing a tux and standing next to a woman in a wedding dress who _wasn't_ Delia, a date about fourteen or fifteen years ago scribbled on the back (he'd have to check a calendar sometime soon because he honestly didn't know the current date). The strange woman appeared in the other photo with the man and a tiny version of Lydia in her arms, the dark-hair already covering her head and the small figure a bit on the pale side. He quietly stored that woman's face in his memory in case he needed the information for later. He could guess the general story involved, but there were definitely a lot of details missing.

The final object from the sock drawer held the most potential and he'd purposefully saved it for last. A dark purple journal, covered in various spiders, bats, and spirals sketched in ink and markers, had been buried under her other hidden belongings. And if anything could unravel the mysteries of the girl, Lydia's journal would.

Flopping back lazily on the girl's pillows, Betelgeuse started flipping through the journal at random. He could see that she didn't write every day and didn't make an entry for the day before. He knew it would have been too easy for Lydia to clearly explain what her reasons for letting him out were. Why should things be that simple for him? But if he couldn't get the clear explanation for the girl's actions and motivations, he could still learn something.

He could see an evolution in her writing styles over time. The entries started out simple and plain, just reporting general events in her life. Then the writing became more elaborate, overly dramatic, and filled with flowery word choices. He recognized the phrases as better fitting Lydia back when they first met, gloomier and talking about wanting to be dead too. He even skimmed over a couple of entries discussing her moving to Connecticut, seeing weird things in the house, and discovering the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased." Betelgeuse almost read the section where she would have met him. He knew it would probably give him a decent look inside her head, reading about his attempt to haunt the Deetz family, their first conversation in the attic, and the almost-wedding. But he found himself skipping ahead, not able to bring himself to read her exact thoughts on almost being married to him. He wasn't fond of guilt and he already felt bad enough about the whole thing. He skipped ahead towards more recent entries, noticing her writing becoming less flowery and more reflective on things.

Something caught his eye as he skimmed over the pages. Betelgeuse slowed down and reread the entry. Lydia wrote about the improvements in her family life while commenting about her difficulties relating to the other girls at her school. She mentioned how hard it was to relate to people that couldn't understand her encounters with ghosts. Then he saw what caught his attention previously.

_They're talking about makeup or shopping while I'm trying not to talk about how my house is haunted. They're talking about boys at the other school across town while I was almost married to a dead guy named Beetlejuice._

Beetlejuice.

The girl wrote about him months after he was eaten by a sandworm and tossed out of her life. She'd thought about him enough to mention him casually in her journal. Even before he returned to try and continue the wedding, she was thinking about him.

And she spelled his name completely wrong.

All right, he had to admit that it was vaguely understandable. It wasn't like he knew how to spell his own name back when he was alive. Literacy wasn't very wide-spread back then and spelling certainly wasn't standardized at that point in history. He didn't learn how to read and write until after he died, when his inability to speak his name made it almost a requirement. He'd actually learned a lot of skills after his demise, ranging from literacy to speaking multiple languages to using his reality warping capabilities to terrifying anyone he wanted.

The point was that he couldn't spell his name until long after he died, but she didn't grow up six hundred years ago. They taught children to read and write at an early age now. There was something about seeing her attempt to write his name and horrible mangling it that… It didn't make him angry, but it did bother him. He couldn't just leave things like that. He couldn't leave her with the charades version of his name. She deserved the real thing.

He briefly considered just tucking one of his cards into her journal or leaving it on her desk. His name was printed on the things and it would certainly correct her misspelling. But it didn't seem like enough. He needed something that would make sure she knew who she was dealing with. Not to mention he wanted a more amusing option.

Inspiration struck and Betelgeuse dug through his jacket briefly before pulling out a pen. He briefly noticed he should probably get an updated writing utensil soon since fountain pens weren't really common anymore, but shrugged it off. The thing wrote and that was all he needed. Lydia's journal entries didn't always completely fill the pages and there was a little room in the margin. There wasn't a lot of room on this particular page, but there was enough for what he wanted. The ink lines darker and thicker than her more delicate writing, Betelgeuse scribbled down his message.

_**That's not how you spell my name, Lyds.** _

It wasn't the cleverest or the most hilarious thing he ever did, but Betelgeuse still smiled at his work. At some point in the future, whenever Lydia decided to go back through her past entries, she would spot his addition. The drastic difference in handwriting and ink would guarantee it. And she would realize that not only was someone reading her journal, but they had the audacity to actually make comments on her spelling. Compared to terrorizing her family and nearly marrying the girl, this was barely a joke.

Would she panic or be scared at the idea of him sneaking into her room? Probably not. He'd likely be back in the Netherworld by the time she noticed. Would she be annoyed? Almost definitely. She might even be angry at the invasion of privacy, but she was smart. She would realize that it was a waste of time to think the Ghost With The Most would care about such things. And maybe once the surprise wore off, she would be amused too. Of all the things that a powerful poltergeist could have done, he decided to write in her journal as a relatively harmless prank. It might be interesting to see what the girl looked like when she was actually smiling or laughing.

Betelgeuse slammed the journal closed and sat up on the bed, scowling with realization. He'd wanted to figure out more about the child so he would stop thinking about her. He'd wanted to remove the mystery and determine why he felt instantly drawn towards Lydia so he could move on to more important matters. Instead, the opposite seemed to be happening. He'd found himself wanting to stick around more so he could see what a happy version of the girl was like. He wanted to be the one making her smile.

No matter how much he denied and ignored it, there was something about the girl from the moment he caught a glimpse of her. It wasn't like he was head-over-heels in love with the child. He wasn't desiring to spend all of eternity with her as a couple someday once she grew up. Regardless of what most people would believe, he _knew_ that feeling. He knew what it felt like to love someone and wanting to marry her, desiring no others more than her and waiting however long it took to have the chance. He hadn't experienced anything even close since his death, but he couldn't forget the feeling if he tried.

 _This_ was not that. This had nothing to do with sexual or romantic feelings whatsoever. This was something different.

When he first saw Lydia, it was like a voice in his head started shouting "look at her, pay attention to her, she's important, do not ignore this person, she's special, focus on her." And at first, he thought his instincts were just telling him that she would be useful to manipulate as an escape. But even now that he knew her age and wouldn't be marrying her, there was something magnetic about even the idea of her that kept pulling him.

He couldn't explain it and he couldn't keep denying or ignoring it. And apparently he couldn't change it or stop it. His attempt to lessen his inexplicable interest was just making it worse.

Betelgeuse dragged a hand through his wild hair and groaned in annoyance. Maybe he was finally going completely crazy. He'd been at least somewhat insane for a while. Navigating the chaotic geometries and physics of the Netherworld tended to be difficult for the more stable and logical minds and poltergeists were generally a little unhinged anyway. Add in about six hundred years and anyone would end up a little batty. But if he was crazy in the past, it was in more entertaining and fun ways that didn't cause him many problems. Obsessing over a random child for unexplainable reasons was definitely a new one.

Scooping back up all her belongings, he began shoving them back into her sock drawer. He barely tried to rearrange things the way they were before. He honestly wasn't too concerned about her realizing he'd been snooping through her stuff. She'd realize it eventually, so why make the effort to hide his actions?

Whatever was causing him to focus so much on Lydia wouldn't matter in the long run. She would send him away, so he would be out of her life by tomorrow afternoon. Unless he felt like haunting her mirror continuously, he wouldn't see her again. He would visit Dante's Inferno Room, avoid Juno for a while, and seek out some new saps to trick into hiring him as bio-exorcist. Before long, this entire experience and the girl would be nothing more than a few odd memories and a warning to pay more attention to the age of the living. Time solved a lot of problems. He'd get over whatever strange hold she had on his attention.

…But until then, it wouldn't hurt to see what she was doing. There was nothing else to really do in the town and she was one of the few people around who knew his name. It couldn't hurt to keep an eye on her for the moment.

Betelgeuse knew he was giving in, surrendering to the unexplainable and undeniable pull she seemed to exert on him. But it was only temporary. She wouldn't leave him out forever. So it couldn't hurt to just go with it for a little while. And maybe he could figure out _why_ he felt drawn towards her. If going through her belongings didn't provide the answer, then maybe observing the child in her natural environment would.

Switching back to his favorite striped suit, the poltergeist left her room the same way he entered. And as he stepped out, he spared a moment to return the sound-proof walls and the contorted window back to their proper states. If Juno did start looking for him, leaving a trail of evidence would be a bad idea.


	4. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, continuing my ability to figure out stuff based on small details, I figured out the timeline of the movie. Using an image of the newspaper Betelgeuse is reading near the beginning of the film that discusses the Maitlands' deaths (and staring at a blurry date at the top until I figure out what it is supposed to say), I have used the process of elimination to figure out when they died. The newspaper appears to be dated for March 26, meaning they died at the end of March. The Deetz family moved in a month later according to dialogue, placing their arrival at the end of April or the start of May. And then the Maitlands miss about three months in the Waiting Room, which means the almost-wedding happens around the beginning of August (give or take). Building off that, I've determined that would mean that this story takes place around the end of September (providing some time for everyone to settle in together in the household and to renovate at least some of the rooms back to how they used to be).
> 
> And if you see a name familiar to the cartoon series, I warn you now she's not an exact copy of the cartoon character. I just drew a little inspiration from her role in the show and decided to give her the same name. Don't expect or ask for more cartoon characters.

Lydia almost sighed in relief as the final bell of the day rang. Her teacher hurried to remind her small class about the upcoming science test, but most of the girls were already shoving their books in their backpacks and heading out the door. Lydia moved a little slower, letting the crowds ebb before she faced the halls. Since Adam and Barbara were still gone, she didn't feel any need to hurry. She could take her time and look for some photo opportunities, her camera tucked in her backpack.

She wandered out of the Miss Shannon's School for Girls quite casually, her mind turning over the artistic possibilities she could try. The leaves were changing colors and the afternoon light tended to be a beautiful golden shade that worked perfectly for photographs.

Lydia vaguely noticed a few other girls still hanging around and gossiping, but her thoughts remained distracted. She spared them no more thought than she did the crisp chill in the air. Her mind continued to focus on good locations to use her camera rather than who was still standing around the school.

She grabbed her bike and started pedaling towards town, her thoughts turning towards the old barn that stood near the field with the cows. She figured the afternoon light, if she could get the angle right, would make the old building look imposing and ancient.

Lydia managed to pedal her way down the road a while before she felt the prickling sensation on the back of her neck, the feeling that someone was watching her. She could have continued onwards regardless, but curiosity and vague annoyance compelled her to turn off the road and head down one of the trails that eventually ran alongside the river.

If someone, alive or dead, was following her for some reason, they might not be able or willing to move away from the more populated areas. And if they did keep stalking her, Lydia figured she could either deal with them or out-ride them. Since she needed to ride her bike all the way across town and up a very long hill daily since her home and school were at opposite ends of Winter River, she felt pretty confident she could out-race most problems.

Regardless of what her stalker or stalkers tried, she might be able to manage some nice nature photos once she lost whoever was watching her. The changing leaves would be beautiful to capture on film.

By the time she reached the tree line and was out of sight of any witnesses, it became clear that her stalkers were catching up. She could actually see them now. Lydia stopped her bike on the trail and waited. She wasn't a coward. She could handle the four girls following her.

None of them were in her class. They were a grade ahead of her in school and at least a year or two older, depending on when their birthdays were. But since there were a fairly small number of students at the school in general and everyone literally grew up together, they'd singled her out as the new girl from New York the moment she arrived. And thanks to the school uniforms, they hadn't realized what Lydia was really like and assumed that someone from New York must be a traditionally stylish, cultured, extravagant, and shallow girl, just like someone from the movies.

Needless to say, the Goth, unhappy, and vaguely suicidal Lydia who attended the last month of the spring semester threw them for a loop. And a few months ago, she hadn't been making the best decisions and flat-out told the shallow, Barbie doll clones what she thought of their behavior right before summer vacation. Things went downhill from there.

Lydia got along with most of her classmates, but the four older girls were another story. She'd antagonized their blonde leader with far too much makeup and padding intended to give her a fuller figure. She'd spoken bluntly to the older girl, called out her materialistic shallowness, and didn't play the proper popularity games with her. And thus Lydia ended up with a group of arch enemies. They rarely caused much trouble for her, the fact she was in a different grade and classes from them ensuring that they didn't cross paths too often even in the small town. But they occasionally felt like being annoying and making their dislike known. And since most of the town was still in the same general direction, the detour off the main road wasn't a huge deterrent for them.

"Hello, Claire," said Lydia dryly as the group of girls stopped their bikes, surrounding her like they expected to intimidate her. "Hello, Ashley, Brittany, and Megan. What brings you out here? Aren't you afraid you'll break a nail?"

Claire scowled and put the kickstand down on her bicycle. The blonde teenager brushed back her hair haughtily and then crossed her arms in front of her padded chest. She walked slowly, circling Lydia. If someone else tried the act, it would seem like a predator such as a tiger or a wolf preparing to attack their prey. But because it was Claire, it seemed more like a kitten stalking a toy mouse. Lydia couldn't be scared of her.

"What about you? What's the local freak doing today? Looking for some werewolves and vampires in the forest?"

She seemed so proud of her taunt, but all it did was make Lydia roll her eyes. This was just sad.

"Do you even hear yourself? Those things are supposed to be nocturnal. If you're going to make fun of me, at least to it right and be imaginative about it. Say I'm going to cast a spell on you. Say I'm going to perform human sacrifices. You could even say I'm going to summon an army of the dead and enslave the town. But looking for werewolves and vampires in the middle of the afternoon? That doesn't even make sense, even for the weird romance novel versions. Which are probably the only ones _you've_ ever heard of."

There was some quiet snickering from Claire's companions while the teenager's cheeks reddened slightly. Lydia shook her head at them. They might be thirteen and fourteen year old girls, but they weren't as smart and mature as they thought. And they definitely couldn't handle someone who didn't respond to attempts at gossip or insults.

"You think you're so funny," said Claire sharply.

She shrugged and said, "If you're going to say stuff that sounds like a joke, then I'm going to treat it like one. So are you done? I have more important things to do."

"Come on, Claire," said Megan uneasily. "Let's leave her. She can wander around the forest and probably get bit by a snake or something. We don't need to risk it too."

That was something Lydia figured out quickly about the older girl. For someone who grew up in the small town in the middle of the countryside, Megan never seemed fond of nature. She avoided insects, dirt, and mud like the plague, making other girls at the school seem practically fearless of the stuff. Adding a fear of snakes to her list of issues wasn't too much of a stretch. The red-head probably would have done better in a city environment. The only reason she probably set foot on the trail and got close to the forest was because Claire told her to come along.

"Relax, Megan," Ashley said. "You're not going to be bitten by a snake."

"Fine, but I don't want a case of poison ivy either. Let's just go."

"Shut up," snapped Claire, glaring at her companions before turning back towards an unimpressed Lydia. "Do you know what I really hate about you? Even while you were acting like the creepiest and weirdest person ever and moping around like a depressing shadow, you thought you were _so_ much better than everyone else. Your family was making expensive and freaky changes to your house while you make snide comments about our appearances, acting like wearing black all the time that you're not at school makes you _so_ special. You're just stuck up and you have absolutely _no_ reason to think you're so great."

That actually made Lydia laugh wryly. Claire thought she was stuck up? When the blonde girl practically plastered herself in makeup and called her "one of those weird Goth girls who don't have any friends" before Lydia retaliated with the Barbie doll comparison? The irony was too much to handle. What twisted logic was she using to come to that conclusion?

"Don't laugh at me," said Claire sharply, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Just look at you. You're pale and freaky-looking, like a drowned kitten. You have no sense of fashion, so you just wear black all the time. I hear you write creepy poems for class. Everyone is probably scared you'll put a hex on them. No boy in their right mind would want to date someone as weird as _you_."

Once again, her words sparked a brief laugh from Lydia. Not only were her insults still ineffective and rather tame, but the last one was hilarious. She was probably the only one of them who'd received what was essentially a proposal. Even if it was a mistake and the wedding was permanently canceled, the entire thing made Claire's rant particularly pathetic. Besides, she didn't feel like dating currently anyway. So why should she care?

Her amusement only infuriated Claire further while leaving her companions looking uncertain how to react. Lydia adopted the most unimpressed expression possible as the teenager hunted for an effective verbal weapon.

"You really are a freak," said Claire. "You think you're so great and you don't care what other people see when they look at you, right? Because you know no one can stand you, so you decide to pretend you don't know it. They might not say they hate you to your face, but it's pretty obvious. That's probably why your father had to remarry. Your real mother probably couldn't stand having such a disappointing daughter and left you."

Lydia flinched, her sheer surprise at the vicious attack making it impossible to hide the hurt. Old wounds reopened and even Claire's companions looked shocked and horrified at how far she'd gone with that one. The teenager's spiteful words weren't anywhere close to true, but they still tore at the pain and loss from over five years ago. Time might heal all wounds, but they could still hurt if someone cruelly ripped them apart.

"Claire, isn't that…?" Brittany began uneasily before a sharp glare silenced her.

"I'm surprised your father and his new wife even brought you along when they moved here. I would have thought they'd leave you behind in New York so they could get away from you," she continued, pouncing on the newly discovered weakness. "Maybe they knew you wouldn't take the hint that no one wanted you around."

While her insults were blunt and laughable before, Claire's words now sliced sharp and deep. Even with the improvements to their relationship and adding the Maitlands to the family dynamic, there were some topics that were still tender and sore. Bringing up her mother hurt enough already, but Lydia was just now get past her issues with her dad and Delia. The older girl seemed determined to undermine and rip it all to shreds. Or at least leave her miserable again for a while.

Claire took a deep breath in preparation for spewing more venomous words, but another abrupt noise interrupted her and made every girl stiffen in shock and fear. A loud, predatory, and creepy hissing came out of the undergrowth. Then came the rustling of leaves as something _large_ crawled closer to them. Panic began to set in, the other girls whispering frantically to each other in confusion and dread.

Then a serpentine shape rose into view and the screams started. Even a little fear gripped Lydia at the familiar sight as Megan produced a blood-curdling shriek. It looked like a giant, striped snake, far larger than any local species. But the head was more humanoid, with hair and a man's facial features combined with fangs and slitted pupils. The overall effect of the serpent and human traits made the creature especially unnerving and unnatural.

The teenage girls scrambled away in terror, Megan already pedaling frantically towards the road. Claire actually brought up the rear since she had to clamber back onto her bike, but she caught up fast during their frightened retreat. Lydia didn't run like the others, though she didn't like seeing the same snake that attacked her family in their home. The memories he evoked caused shivers even as the other girls raced out of sight towards the safety of the road.

"They move pretty fast," hissed the serpent, smirking with his sharp fangs exposed.

* * *

Betelgeuse found Lydia quite easily. He already knew the layout of the town and he'd seen the girls' school the night before. So he had no trouble locating the girl when she left on her bike. Betelgeuse followed her at a reasonable distance, keeping in mind Lydia would be able to see him unlike most people. He actually needed to try a little stealth and sneakiness to keep from drawing her attention.

At first, there wasn't much to watch as she rode down the road. She wore a school uniform rather than her usual black ensemble, but she didn't do anything much of interest to him. Then he realized he wasn't the only one who was following the girl. Four other girls wearing the same school uniforms were riding their bikes in formation like a pack of hunting wolves, stalking Lydia as she turned off the road and onto a trail towards the forest.

He didn't know what the girls might have in mind, but he could figure out a few things based on his observations. The uniforms meant they were underage like Lydia, their predatory behavior implied they were hunting her for some reason, and their snooty and spiteful expressions gave him the feeling that they would scare easily. He decided to keep an eye on things as Lydia stopped at the edge of the forest, the girl waiting for the arriving pack.

He found a nice spot just a little deeper beyond the tree line, hidden by the brambles and tree trunks. It kept him camouflaged from the girl while still leaving him close enough to watch and listen. Betelgeuse settled in comfortably as they encircled Lydia. Judging by the annoyed expression on the girl's face and the lack of concern, he could expect quite a show.

Lydia actually greeted them dryly, making it clear that she didn't see them as a threat or anything more than a vague aggravation to her day. It didn't take long for him to realize the blonde girl with the excessive amounts of makeup was the ringleader of the group. She climbed off her bike and tried to intimidate Lydia. But this Claire girl seemed like a complete amateur. And Lydia… She was something else.

Confident and mildly bored, Lydia met her insults with comments about how pathetic they were or even suggestions on how to improve them. While Claire tried to tear her down, Lydia didn't seem at all bothered. She frustrated and annoyed her tormenter without a single hint that she cared about Claire's opinion. She didn't have to attack or even directly insult the blonde girl. Lydia just kept in control of the situation and didn't let anything faze her.

At least the girl he'd chosen to stalk turned out to be mildly impressive in comparison to her spiteful peers. Of course, if she didn't have a spine, he probably wouldn't be as strangely obsessed with her as he was. Not to mention she would have been too scared to let him out again. He had to face it. He liked her more and more the longer he hung around.

Betelgeuse watch as the one of the other girls tried to convince them to leave, worrying about snakes and poison ivy. Honestly, since he was in the woods, they should probably have larger concerns. But Claire didn't seem to be giving up on her attempt to rattle Lydia. But she actually laughed at the blonde girl's attempts and Betelgeuse struggled not to do the same. He could tell Claire was blindly reaching for any possible insult now, no matter how weak or nonsensical.

Then Claire said something about the girl's mother and Lydia _flinched_. That caught his attention, Betelgeuse shifting his posture from relaxed to something more focused and intense without even noticing the change. For the first time since she started her verbal onslaught, something she said affected Lydia. Claire _hurt_ her.

If he'd been unnaturally obsessed with Lydia for an unexplainable reason before, what happened when he saw that flinch pushed it to a new level. Betelgeuse saw that moment of pain and all that he could think was that someone hurt _his_ girl.

He'd found her. He'd seen something in her that he couldn't ignore or explain. He might have given up the idea of her being his bride, but she was _something_. He didn't have the word to describe exactly what she was yet, but he'd unconsciously claimed her as something in that moment he first saw her. And that magnetic pull towards her and the impossible-to-understand obsession with the child only served to strengthen that claim.

She was _his_ girl. She was _his_. And he did not like people harming what belonged to him.

Someone tried to interrupt the blonde girl, to stop her from continuing. She didn't take the hint. Claire kept talking, but he was no longer listening. He was busy reshaping himself into something more appropriate.

One of the easiest and first tricks that any ghost learned was how to manipulate their own bodies past what anyone alive could do. Ripping, tearing, mangling, decapitating, twisting, shredding, and contorting their forms was as easy as reforming modeling clay. It didn't hurt and some ghosts could create very horrifying appearances that way.

He was better than most, though. He had more experience and practice than most ghosts could ever achieve. He could make himself no longer look human. And thanks to the nervous remarks earlier by the red-head, he knew what to reshape himself as.

Betelgeuse discarded his limbs, lengthened his body, and stretched his teeth into fangs. He gave himself stripes to match his suit and adjusted his appearance until he appeared more reptilian. But he kept enough humanity present to make the entire ensemble extremely unnerving. Then he made sure he was solid and visible enough that even the biggest skeptics would be able to notice his presence. And when he saw Claire was about to speak again, he hissed like a hungry predator in shadows.

While Claire and her cronies might be brave while they outnumbered their victim, they started freaking out the moment they heard sounds and movements from an unknown source. He almost considered it too easy. That didn't change the fact he enjoyed their reactions when he rose into view in all his creepy snake glory.

The four terrified girls fled screaming out of the forest, their bikes racing back up the trail towards the road. Lydia remained in place: not happy, but not shrieking. Betelgeuse counted the entire thing as a success and smirked with his fangs-filled mouth.

"They move pretty fast," he hissed, listening to the fading screams. Then turning towards the remaining girl, he said, "I don't think your friends like me very much, Babes."

"They're _not_ my friends," said Lydia, taking the opportunity to start pulling herself back together from the encounter. Wrapping an arm around herself protectively and staring at her feet, she added, "And could you turn back to normal, please? Talking to you like this is really unnerving. I don't have good memories of you as a snake."

Right, she didn't appreciate him dropping Chuck over the banister. And the whole first haunting encounter was probably more fun for him than it was for the girl. He didn't mind turning back. He preferred having limbs anyway.

"Sure thing, Lyds," he said, mimicking a shrugging movement without having shoulders. "I just couldn't pass up the chance when the red-head complained about possible snake bite."

Changing back to his proper shape took almost no effort, the shift between forms accompanied by a sound similar to snapping rubber. He brushed off his sleeves casually while Lydia tried to recover her previous confidence a little. He didn't have that long a wait before she looked close to normal. Betelgeuse had to give the girl credit. If she got knocked down, she got back up again.

"So you heard all that," said Lydia. "Figures. I guess you'll want to know what that was about."

He shrugged and said, "Not unless you particularly feel like sharing, Babes. I'm not that curious about why someone's future gold-digging trophy wife feels like chasing the local Goth girl." He knew she meant the comment that upset her, but he didn't give her a chance to correct him. "So other than the verbal jousting with that dog pack, what do you do for entertainment around here? Because other than a very desperate and enthusiastic woman I met last night, there really doesn't seem to be much to do around here."

"Charming," muttered Lydia dryly, rolling her eyes. "No wonder you stayed out of trouble last night. You've been too busy looking for a new bride."

"No, I'm just having fun. And she enjoyed herself just as much as I did."

"And clearly she had low standards."

He smirked proudly and spread his arms dramatically as he said, "She was drunk and her boyfriend was cheating on her. In that state, she had _no_ standards. That doesn't mean she didn't end up with a real catch."

That prompted a small smile of amusement, which he counted as a victory. She seemed more focused on him and his conquests than she was on that Claire girl now. And they'd somehow settled into a more relaxed state than some of their last conversations. Maybe scaring off the other girls earned him a little good credit with her.

Casually folding his arms behind his back, Betelgeuse started strolling down the trail. Lydia hesitated a moment before following, pushing her bike alongside them as they walked.

After a few minutes of silence, Lydia asked, "Are you having a good time? Being on Earth, I mean."

"Almost anything beats the Netherworld, so yeah."

"Adam and Barbara never really told me about it and the Handbook doesn't give a lot of detail. What's the Netherworld like?"

He glanced at the girl briefly. She wasn't as depressed and suicidal-seeming as she once was, but her curiosity and fascination with death still clearly remained. A little bit of interest made sense with how many ghosts she dealt with, but she needed to avoid taking things too far. He'd have to keep an eye out to make sure Lydia didn't get so curious that she wound up working for Juno. Taking a shortcut wouldn't work out well for anyone.

Betelgeuse abruptly realized he was acting like he planned on staying around. His mind kept trying to make weird decisions without him really noticing. Especially when those decisions involved Lydia. He would need to pay more attention to that in the future.

"The Maitlands probably didn't see much of the place. Just the Waiting Room and maybe Juno's office. Of course, they aren't really missing that much. It's just…" He shrugged casually and described, "You know, little dark, little gloomy, and as always— hey! Full of dead people, what are you going do?" Kicking at a rock across the ground, he continued, "Honestly, it gets old really fast. The place is dull and completely boring. Out here has a lot more to offer."

"Like what?"

He gestured towards their surroundings. The colorful leaves, the crisp autumn air, and the sunlight filtering down through the canopy were all things that weren't available in the Netherworld. The living simply couldn't appreciate what they had. Existence was far more exciting and full than in the Netherworld.

"I figured you'd be more concerned with the fact there are living women out here you haven't tried chasing yet than with the wonders of nature," said Lydia dryly.

"I'm a big fan of nature. Nature has all the best insects to snack on."

That startled a short laugh from the girl. He turned out to be completely correct before. He _did_ like the way she looked when she was happy. There was just something right about it.

Shaking her head ruefully, she asked, "What are you doing here, Betelgeuse?"

"Watch the name thing," muttered the poltergeist. "And what do you mean, what am I doing here? You're the one who decided to let me out. I can't figure out _why_ , but you did."

"No, I mean why are you _here_? In the forest? Talking to me? I figured you'd be out scaring people or partying or conning someone or something. So what are you doing here?" she asked quietly.

He barked out a laugh and shook his head ruefully, turning his gaze skywards. He spread his arms out, still cackling slightly.

"I honestly have no freaking clue, Lyds. Not a single one." Then, the laughter dying down, he said, "But you're the only one around here who might say my name, you keep surprising me, and I'm not bored around you. And for some reason, I can't get you out of my mind. Which is a little distracting, but I can't seem to change that. So until I somehow straighten out my head, I have a feeling I'm going to keep orbiting around you. Or at least until you kick me back to the Netherworld."

She stopped walking and stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then she started rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly.

"So now I have a ghost stalker. I don't know if I should be horrified or simply unsurprised by how my life is going." Lydia glanced back up at him and said, "You know, the smart thing would be to get rid of you right now."

"The smart thing would have been not to call me out in the first place. But here we are."

"You're crazy."

He nodded and said, "Most poltergeists are at least a little bit."

"You're dangerous."

"I'm the Ghost With The Most. There aren't a lot of things more powerful and dangerous than me."

"And now you're admitting that you're obsessed with me?"

"Apparently, yes. And I don't know why."

"You know that is really creepy, right? Are you trying to make me get rid of you faster?"

"Yes," he said honestly. "One of us has to do the smart thing. I already caused you enough problems. You don't deserve more trouble and I'm not great with limits. Not even limits I set myself. If you don't get rid of me, I won't stay away."

It would make her life and his afterlife easier if she got rid of him and never called him back. Putting some distance between them and ensuring he couldn't come back to her little town might be enough to break whatever strange obsession was growing. He wanted to stick around. He wanted to keep the child as _his_ girl. But he still had enough guilt and disgust with his previous actions that he knew she deserved something better.

She was nice to him, letting him out without any benefit and risking the chaos he could bring. He should return the favor and do something nice for her. A fair trade and a fair deal.

She smiled slightly for some reason and started pushing her bike along again. Betelgeuse waited a moment before following.

"And _that's_ why you deserve to stay out. I promised you two days free and I meant it," she said. "After that… maybe we could renegotiate terms."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version of Claire is not meant to be an exact copy of the Claire from the cartoon. But I wanted a blonde, snobby bully type of character, so I named her after the cartoon version. Just don't expect to see the rest of the cartoon cast showing up. And requests for various characters will be thoroughly ignored.
> 
> Yes, Betelgeuse quoted Hades from Disney's "Hercules" when describing the Netherworld. I couldn't resist. And it fits perfectly.


	5. Walking Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in continuing with my efforts to do way more research on the little details than most people care about, I figured out which way the river flows as it runs parallel to the main road of the town. I used the one glimpse we get of the water (when the Maitlands go off the bridge) to figure out that the rivers flows from the bridge towards the school at the other end of town. The bridge is the furthest point upriver for the town and everything else is downriver.

Twenty-four hours. It seemed so strange to realize how much had changed in that short of a time frame. Everything she'd known or assumed was being called into question. Of course, all her knowledge previously had been based on three admittedly-problematic meetings that probably didn't add up to an hour in total interaction time. He definitely didn't make the best first, second, or third impression, but she was trying not to let that influence her too strongly at the moment. Those three short meetings weren't really much time to really get to know anyone.

Lydia suspected that if anyone could actually see the two unlikely companions as they walked further down the path, they wouldn't believe their eyes. Even if they believed in ghosts, they wouldn't understand what they were witnessing. It just seemed so odd, the two of them walking through the autumn woods.

She was a twelve year old girl wearing the local school uniform, pushing her bike along the forest trail. He was a blond adult man who looked like a corpse in a striped suit. They shouldn't have anything in common. They shouldn't have any reason to get along. And yet Lydia couldn't help giving him this second chance and, even with his flaws and actions, she didn't think that decision was completely wrong.

As much as it bothered her to see the snake version of the ghost again, he scared off Claire and her classmates without hurting anyone. And then he didn't ask about her mother even though he _had_ to have heard Claire. Lydia appreciated both the fact he got rid of the girls and kept silent on the sore topic. He'd definitely earned himself a little more trust that he wasn't out to trick or use Lydia somehow.

And while he admitted to being obsessed for reasons he couldn't seem to explain or understand, it didn't seem quite as creepy as it should. Maybe it was because of that little bit of good credit he earned by getting rid of Claire. Or maybe there was a limit on how creepy a guy could be and Betelgeuse's status as a very old ghost might just be enough to reach that limit, meaning even admitting to stalking couldn't make it worse.

Or maybe part of her just knew that he didn't mean her any harm, regardless of any level of unexplained obsession with her.

The unlikely pair wandered slowly down the trail, Lydia occasionally pausing to dig out her camera while he watched in bemusement as she photographed their colorful surroundings. More leaves would change as the weeks progressed, but the current appearance was beautiful too. She took pictures whenever she saw the perfect combination of subject and light. She might not be as intense about artistic vision as Delia, but Lydia liked to think she was pretty good. And it gave her something to do while searching for a new conversation topic after the last one trailed off.

"Having fun, Lyds?" asked Betelgeuse, holding onto her handlebars as she snapped another photograph. "That's the fifth picture of trees so far."

"The leaves are amazing at this time of year, especially when the light is just right," she said. "You can't get photos like this most of the year and even Central Park isn't the same as a natural forest. I couldn't take these kinds of pictures before moving here."

He shrugged before handing back over her bike and said, "Never really saw the appeal of photography as a hobby type of thing, but it didn't exist when I was alive and there isn't much demand for it among the dead. We don't show up in pictures. But you seem to like it."

"Yeah, I like it for a lot of reasons." Starting to push her bicycle along the path again, Lydia described, "Finding just the right angle, the right lighting, and the right focus on a subject so that the picture is absolutely perfect is a fun challenge. Anyone can take a picture, but taking _good_ ones takes hard work and practice. And… a good photo makes people think."

"Think about what? The kinds of trees you like?"

He could have said it in a sarcastic way. But he didn't. He honestly sounded curious. Curious about the pictures, what people might think about when seeing the pictures, and herself. Betelgeuse might not have considered the appeal of photography, but he didn't seem to have a problem listening to her opinion on the topic. And she didn't mind sharing. He was definitely easy to talk to for some reason.

"I don't know how to explain it, but I'll try. They say a picture's worth a thousand words," she said. "And I can believe that. People normally go through their lives oblivious and ignoring what's right in front of them. A picture captures a specific moment and makes people _really_ look at it. A photo makes them see and appreciate all the details they would never notice normally. Regular people won't really look at how the light hits the autumn leaves or how spider webs look with morning dew or how the right angle makes interesting architecture even more amazing. But if you photograph it, people _have_ to notice. They have to see, _truly_ see what the picture captures in that moment. And it makes them think about all the things they would never pay attention to."

He was quiet for a moment before chuckling softly, shaking his head, and saying, "That's way too much deep and contemplative thinking for me. I'll leave that to the philosophical types. Just give me a half-decent comedy with a cheesy plot any day. Like 'The Exorcist.' That movie is hysterical."

Lydia couldn't help chuckling slightly. That definitely sounded about right. A real ghost would certainly see normal scary movies as being less-than-intimidating. And based on what she'd see so far, he could be scarier than any horror movie.

"So other than watching movies, sleeping with strange women, and scaring random families, what do you do?" she asked as the trail moved closer to the river, following it as they walked upstream.

"Hey, I don't scare 'random' people. I scare the ones I'm hired to handle," corrected Betelgeuse. "Why do something you're great at for free when someone is willing to pay for it?" He paused briefly before adding, "Though sometimes it _is_ random people when I want to just have some fun. Boredom is such an annoyance."

And that raised more questions that Lydia really couldn't resist asking. She knew almost nothing about the Netherworld beyond what she read in the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased" and "The Living and the Dead." And the books were more focused on the rules, limitations, warnings, restrictions, and general information. A lot of things weren't explained. She didn't know what the place looked like, what other ghosts did while in the Netherworld, or whether they had a monetary system or not. And since he was several centuries old, Betelgeuse would know all the answers she could ever want. She just needed ask the questions and hope he answered them.

"If they hire you, do they pay you somehow? I wouldn't think people would bring cash with them when they died," said Lydia.

Chuckling slightly, Betelgeuse said, "Yeah, other than what's on you when you kick the bucket, you really can't take it with you. Though if you're lucky, you can go back and grab it later." Burying his hands in his pockets, he continued, "But we don't really use money. It isn't like we need food, water, shelter, clothes, or anything to survive. Eat is optional, most ghosts are stuck with the clothes they died in, and sleep is only required if someone does something incredibly stupid and wears themselves out. Pretty much everything we might want isn't vital. But if you really want something, chances are you can figure out a trade."

"So you work off a barter system?"

"Yep. Sometimes the trades are a little unusual, but it is easier than trying to devise a new form of money and figuring out the appropriate prices for everything. I mean, can you imagine someone trying to work out the exchange rates with the living's money for some reason?" He shook his head ruefully and said, "If you're good at it, you can trade for some interesting stuff."

"Like what?" asked Lydia, genuinely curious.

"Favors are the most common. Especially since some dead guys are more powerful and flexible with their abilities than others."

"And by 'some dead guys,' you mean you?"

"Naturally, Babes."

Lydia smiled slightly in amusement as he preened proudly. No one could deny that the poltergeist had an ego. But she found his ego to be charming and entertaining rather than obnoxious. And considering Betelgeuse was a dirty, mold-covered, and corpse-like ghost, the fact he could be anything resembling charming and proud was a minor miracle.

"But other than general favors, a ghost might exchange services or the use of specific skills," he continued. When he saw her brief look of disgust, Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and said, "That's _not_ what I meant, Lyds. Though some of the women _do_ go for that option. I was talking about skills like singing, playing instruments, acting, storytelling, and so on. You'd be surprised how much someone would give just to escape boredom."

Thinking about the prices of movie tickets, Lydia said, "I could believe it."

"Other useful things to trade include information and secrets," he continued. "Knowledge is power and all that. I've shared a few loopholes in the Handbook over the centuries. And sometimes they'll go for the more material objects. If you don't have a place to haunt, you still might want to spruce things up while you're stuck in the Netherworld. Chairs, candles, cigarettes, and so on. You wouldn't believe how fast a certain caseworker I know goes through her cigarette stash. Not everyone can create stuff with their powers. A few have to make do with ectoplasm-constructed objects. The buffer zone between this world and the Netherworld is comprised of ectoplasm and it works great at mimicking normal matter. So some ghosts have set up a nice business of collecting it and manufacturing materials out of it."

Lydia nodded thoughtfully as he spoke. She was learning far more than she could imagined. Apparently he was very talkative when given the opportunity.

"And some ghosts are particularly homesick for this place and will trade anything for something from the land of the living," he said. "Even if it isn't anything that belonged to them back when they were alive or even if it is from somewhere completely different than where they died, some ghosts desperately want to cling onto something from out here. Those are usually the ones who don't have anywhere to haunt and haven't been out since they died."

Lydia paused briefly as they walked, digging out her camera again. He stopped talking as he held her bike steady and she focused on her surroundings. She took a couple of pictures of the river as it flowed passed them, the moving water and light reflection impossible to ignore. Once she was satisfied with the photos, they returned to their previous conversation quite smoothly.

"Now if a ghost is desperate enough or confident enough that they can handle things without assistance from the bureaucracy, they can always trade one of their help tokens for their caseworker," he said. "Every ghost gets a handful of emergency meetings with their caseworkers outside of normal appointments, but there's a limit. And that makes them valuable and worth saving for important matters."

"And what about Adam and Barbara? What did you charge them for your bio-exorcist services?"

Betelgeuse said casually, "That's actually so simple that I didn't even try to spell it out for them. I solve their problem and they let me out for a little while. That's one of my usual strategies. A simple deal where everyone goes home happy." He paused briefly before admitting, 'Okay, _maybe_ my methods were a little aggressive for their preferences, but everyone walked away in one piece. Even with that last night where everything went wrong, it didn't end _too_ badly. No deaths, no maiming, no marriages, and only one sandworm attack. We'll chalk that up to misunderstandings and mistakes from everyone involved and call it even."

"That's what we agreed. A fresh start," said Lydia with a nod.

The conversation trailed off as the path left the forest and rejoined the rest of the town. Once they passed a couple of houses, Lydia walked towards the red-painted covered bridge. It was the only way to cross the river. After that, there was the long hill and she'd be home.

As they began walking across the wooden bridge, Lydia keeping an eye out for passing cars, she said, "This is where the Maitlands died. Their car went off the bridge into the river."

"Is that right?" he said, glancing around as if looking for any remaining damage or evidence of the accident. "I guess they died quickly. They don't look too bad for car crash victims. And it does explain why they smell a little like river water."

He was right. Adam and Barbara mostly smelled like clean laundry, craft paint and glue, and sometimes cookies if they felt like baking that day. But whenever she hugged the Maitlands, she could detect the slight scent of river that never faded. Like their clothes, evidence of their physical states at death remained.

Briefly, Lydia considered asking Betelgeuse about his death. The topic provided the perfect opening to ask. The question seemed almost natural.

But she quickly rejected the idea. Something told her that asking how he died would be a little too personal. Maybe she could ask him about it someday. But not now. Not yet. That was a question to save for when they knew each other better.

She almost stopped walking as she realized just how much she wanted to know him better. Lydia still felt a little cautious towards him, but not as much as she probably should. Mostly, she'd found herself liking him.

They should have nothing in common, being complete opposites in so many ways and from completely different centuries. Different genders, vastly different ages, alive and dead, different experiences, and a thousand other opposing traits should have left them completely at odds. But for reasons that were hard to describe, Lydia felt like they were clicking. Like two strangely-shaped puzzle pieces that fit together.

She knew she was pretty open-minded, but she was surprising herself a bit. Now that they'd gotten past the banister-snake attack and the almost wedding, she found herself growing comfortable with him. He had flaws, but so did everyone. That didn't change the fact that she liked talking with him and spending time with Betelgeuse was actually really nice.

As they continued to walk up the hill, Lydia found herself smiling wryly. After spending months at her new school with no real emotional connections to the other girls, she'd managed to end up on pretty good terms with the ghost in about a day. And that was after they started off practically hating each other the day before.

She was right. She got along far better with the dead than she did with the living.

"You're thinking so hard I can practically hear the gears grinding," said Betelgeuse, making her blink in surprise and notice how long they'd been walking up the hill. "What's on your mind, Babes?"

Trying to figure out a more comfortable conversation topic than what previously occupied her thoughts, Lydia shrugged awkwardly and said, "I don't even know what to call you. I mean, your name has… _issues_ connected to it. I would think trying to talk to someone who could get banished or summoned every time their name is used would get annoying. And just saying 'you' all the time seems kind of rude."

"Call me whatever you like, Lyds. Some just stick with the title 'Ghost With The Most." Some make up nicknames if necessary. The ladies have some creative things to call me. Just use your imagination."

She nodded. She would have to think about it a little. Using his initials didn't seem quite right and she didn't feel like calling him just "Beetle" or "Juice." Lydia knew it would take some time to figure out what fit the ghost best.

"And as much fun as it would be to play 'name that poltergeist,' it looks like this is your stop," he said, gesturing ahead.

Lydia realized that she was home. And she also realized as she stared at the white house in front of her… he couldn't really come inside. He could possibly sneak in through a window or something, but her entire family would freak out if they caught a glimpse of him. Dad, Delia, Barbara, Adam… None of them would give him a chance to explain anything. They'd just say his name and kick him back to the Netherworld instantly. For the moment, they would have to go their separate ways.

He stopped as she continued towards her house, but she noticed he didn't leave yet. He just watched. Maybe he just wanted to make sure she made it home safe, even if it was a short distance away and nothing bad could happen in that short time span of travel across the yard. If that was true, it was both amusing and… She didn't know what else to call it, but the idea felt kind of nice.

Pushing her bike to the side of the house where it belonged, Lydia turned back towards Betelgeuse and gave him a small smile. He looked mildly puzzled by the gesture, but not unhappy about it.

"School starts at eight in the morning, but I usually leave around seven," she said casually. "That gives me time to ride my bike there and have some extra time in case I need it for some reason. You're welcome to join me if you're not busy with something else. Or _someone_ else."

He tried to hide it, but Lydia spotted his expression for a brief moment after she made the offer. He looked surprised and a little pleased by it, like he couldn't believe that she would make the offer to see him again so soon and was happy for such a chance. That split-second she caught a glimpse of his expression made her wonder…

Maybe there was a reason why he was willing to walk home with her after scaring off Claire. Maybe there was a simple explanation for why he felt drawn towards her even when he could understand it himself. Maybe they did have something in common with each other.

Maybe they were both a little lonely sometimes.

"Well, I can't make any promises, Babes," he said with a casualness that she highly-suspected was an act, "but I might consider it. Seven o'clock, you said?"

She nodded, "Yes. And you have enough watches up your sleeve that you shouldn't have any trouble with it."

He smirked at that and gave her a brief nod. Then he turned around and started walking back down the driveway, managing a lazy wave of his hand as he left. Lydia didn't have any doubts that he would try to track down another possibly-drunk woman whenever he reached town again. She was also confident he would be at her house in the morning. That was actually a really nice feeling.

* * *

Once he was out of sight of the house, Betelgeuse dragged a hand through his hair. Lydia kept making surprising and rather crazy decisions, doing things that no one else alive or dead would consider. This went beyond making an ill-conceived attempt to repay him for helping the Maitlands by letting him out or her odd acceptance of his unexplainable obsession with a child. She wasn't just putting up with his presence. She was literally seeking out _more_ time with him.

She didn't have much of a survival instinct. She didn't fear him as much as she should after seeing the Ghost With The Most in action. She talked casually with him. She listened and shared things without looking at him suspiciously. She acted nice towards him.

She acted as if she liked him. As if… she trusted him.

If he wasn't already inexplicably obsessed and pulled toward the girl, this would certainly help seal the deal. Beyond the small amount necessary to coax ignorant saps into falling for a con, people didn't really like or trust him. It didn't bother him. Having the reputation he'd cultivated as the Ghost With The Most encouraged other ghosts to avoid causing him trouble and ensured he could intimidate others into backing down when facing an obstacle. He enjoyed that carefully-cultivated reputation, but it meant he rarely encountered anyone who could like and trust him. He knew even the ladies of Dante's Inferno Room had their limits. And he was fine with that. But it also made Lydia rather unique.

There were at least a few understandable reasons for him to be drawn towards her. He still didn't completely understand his obsession, but it was a little clearer now why it persisted and grew stronger the more he saw of her.

Betelgeuse chuckled softly and shook his head. He wasn't a morning person and hadn't worried about getting moving early in the day in centuries. Well, it wasn't like he _needed_ sleep anyway.

Apparently he would be meeting his girl at seven o'clock tomorrow.

* * *

As soon as she opened the front door, Lydia was greeted by a cheerful and familiar tune. She instantly smiled at the sound. While the music was growing on the entire family, she knew exactly who would be playing that song.

"Jump in de line, rock your body in time," Lydia sang under her breath as she hurried inside. "Okay, I believe you."

"Is that you, Lydia?" called Barbara, stepping into view. She smiled brightly at the girl and hurried to give her a hug. "Sorry we took so long. There was more paperwork than we expected."

"At least we weren't gone for three months this time," said Adam, hugging her the moment his wife released the girl. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"It was fine," she answered simply.

Lydia always appreciated their hugs. Being hugged by a ghost felt different than anything else in the world. They felt cooler to the touch than anyone alive. Not cold, but just pleasantly cool. And they were somewhere between solid and insubstantial, touchable while still feeling like she could go right through them if she tried hard enough. The coolness and semi-insubstantial sensation had quickly grown to be a welcomed and comforting experience.

As they broke off the hug, Adam asked, "Usually you make it home sooner than this, Lydia. Everything go all right?"

"I took the longer path through the forest. I wanted to get some pictures of the leaves changing colors," she said. "So I took my time."

It was at least the partial truth. Lydia didn't want to lie and especially not to Adam and Barbara. But she could avoid topics while still being honest. She hadn't mentioned Claire to them since they would worry and couldn't do anything to help anyway. And now she didn't want to tell them about Betelgeuse yet. It was just too complicated at the moment. So she tried to keep things simple for everyone.

"Let me guess. Dad is upstairs reading either his bird-watching book or 'The Living and the Dead' while Delia is working on her current sculpture. Am I right?"

Adam adjusted his glasses and said, "Exactly."

"Meanwhile, we're baking some cookies," said Barbara. "Why don't you head upstairs and change out of your school uniform. We'll call you when the cookies are ready and you can eat some while we help you study for that upcoming test."

Lydia smiled at her ghost pseudo-parents. Of course they remembered about her science test. They took her education seriously. But at least they made homework and studying more interesting. Between snacks, helping her learn the material, and rewarding her progress by getting creative with their powers so she could have some fun, school work was a lot easier and more interesting than before. Her grades kept improving, the occasionally problem with frog dissection notwithstanding.

Giving them a quick nod, Lydia hurried up the stairs. She slipped into her room, dropped her backpack on the floor, and collapsed on the bed tiredly. There was nothing like relaxing a little after a long day at school and a complicated walk home. But as nice as it felt to just sprawl on her bed until Christmas break in a few months, she only let herself stay there for a few moments before sitting up and heading for her sock drawer. The last couple of days left her with a lot to write about.

Lydia frowned as she looked inside. Something wasn't right. Things weren't where she left them. Someone went through her belongings.

Suspicions creeping around her skull, she pulled out her journal. Dad wouldn't go through her stuff. Adam and Barbara definitely respected her privacy too much to do this. Even Delia didn't seem likely to poke through her sock drawer. That didn't leave very many options.

She caught sight of a thicker and darker ink as flipped through, making Lydia pause and turn back a few pages. It didn't match her writing or her pens. When she got back to the odd part in her journal, she saw a sentence she never wrote. Lydia stared at the complaint about her spelling. It wasn't even the latest entry, but one of the earlier ones. Someone literally read through her journal and wrote _commentary_ about it. They didn't even try to hide the blatant violation of her privacy.

Lydia rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration. She was going to _kill_ that poltergeist.

That thought made her head drop as she laughed slightly. The sheer irony of that idea defused most of the anger she felt over Betelgeuse messing with her journal. Honestly out of all the things she could imagine him doing with Lydia's journal, correcting her spelling was impossibly low on the list. How was she supposed to react to something so… odd? Unexpected? Juvenile?

Inspiration struck her with a creative solution to the situation. Picking up a pen, Lydia wrote down a response.

_I wrote this over a month ago. Stop reading and scribbling in my journal or else!_

If and when Betelgeuse decided to poke his nose in her business again, he would undoubtedly find her note back to him. Somehow she felt that he would respond better to a similar message in her journal than he would a full rant about how disrespectful it was to mess with people's belongings without permission. He'd probably just ignore or laugh at a lecture. This might actually get his attention.

Of course, she also knew her next goal would be to figure out the correct spelling of his name.


	6. Motherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And time for another chapter. I've been making relatively fast progress so far. I doubt I'll be able to keep it up, but enjoy the speedy updates while you can. 
> 
> And you'll also get a nice flashback/dream sequence in the latter half of this update, which should be interesting. Won't that be nice? I always enjoy a stroll down memory lane.

One of the nice side effects of being dead was that they could get trays of cookies out of the oven without worrying about oven mitts. Barbara once accidentally set her fingers on fire shortly after dying. She didn't feel any pain even when her fingertips ended up like birthday candles. Burning herself while baking wasn't really possible.

She set the pan on the counter while Adam pulled out a pair of spatulas from a drawer and a wire cooling rack from the cabinets. But as much as she enjoyed the scent of warm peanut butter and the domestic bliss of their afterlife, Barbara's mind turned over a few thoughts that mildly dampened her mood.

"Adam," she said as they waited, letting the cookies cool just enough that they wouldn't break while prying them free of the tray. "Did something seem different about Lydia today?"

Blinking in surprise, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. She just seemed… off. Like her mind was somewhere else. Like she was distracted."

"I didn't notice anything," Adam said, reaching back for the spatula. "But I wasn't looking for it and was a little distracted welcoming her home. What do you think is going on?"

As they started carefully transferring cookies to the wire cooling rack, Barbara admitted, "I think she's hiding something from us. Do you think something happened while we were gone?"

"Honey, she's going to be a teenager in about a month. They tend to hide things. Do you remember what you were like at her age?"

Barbara blushed briefly at the memories. When she was Lydia's age, she'd been biking over to Keaton's School for Boys at the opposite end of the town. She and her cousin, Jane, were closer in those days and she would join Barbara in her trips across town after school. They would gossip about the various boys and tried to work up the nerve to talk to some of the cuter ones. She'd focused quickly on Adam while Jane wound up with several boyfriends over the years until she finally ended up with Kyle Butterfield.

"I just worry about her sometimes," said Barbara, staring down at the cookies.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her gently, he said, "I know, Honey. But we can trust her and she trusts us. If anything was wrong or she had something important going on in her life, she would tell us. Whatever is on her mind, I'm sure she can handle it. And if she needs help, she'll ask." Smiling at his wife warmly, Adam said, "You know what it probably is? She might have a crush on a boy. It _would_ explain her being distracted. _And_ why she's home a little later than normal."

Laughing lightly, Barbara shook her head and said, "No, I would recognize that. I _was_ a young girl in love once, remember?"

"Once?" he asked in a tone of mock hurt, frowning dramatically while struggling to hide a slightly mischievous smile. "That's just mean."

Barbara shook his head at his overacting. She kissed her husband apologetically. That led to his arms wrapping around her more firmly and returning the kiss, cookies temporarily forgotten. Death might have led to many changes, but their love was undiminished.

* * *

Delia realized long ago that she wasn't meant for an ordinary and monotonous life. She'd grown up in a family where appearances and reputation were more important than anything else. Her father was in politics and her childhood was filled with learning that fancy dinner parties intended to impress those with money were more important than playing outside or fun. She'd eventually rebelled against the restrictive lifestyle by embracing her more creative side and becoming an artist. Delia considered herself a free-spirit and meant for far better things than a dull life surrounded by politicians and their ilk.

Her gift for sculpting and her love for the artistic community helped her achieve the unique and extraordinary destiny she'd always knew should be hers. She developed her skills, made connections with other artists and creative individuals, managed to find an agent who would take her on, and truly became a professional. Art ensured her every dream became a reality. Art even brought her a husband and step-daughter.

She remembered that day vividly. Delia went to the museum to both pay respect to her fellow artists and study the sculptures on exhibit, seeking inspiration and ideas for her next project. It wasn't a particularly busy day, so she quickly noticed the other people present in the building. Charles was wandering the halls as his ten year old daughter stared at photographs and paintings with wide-eyed curiosity and interest. He clearly wasn't as focused on the artwork as his child, so the woman approached him on a whim. While Lydia continued her quiet inspection of the framed photographs, Delia started talking to the widower about various topics.

By the time they left the museum, they'd exchanged phone numbers. A year later and she married Charles, gaining the responsibility of a daughter when she honestly didn't know how to be a parent. And a year after that, they moved to Winter River.

Pausing briefly to wipe away some of the sweat from her brow, Delia stepped back to look at her in-progress sculpture. Living in a haunted house and being exposed to the paranormal inspired her art like nothing before. And replacing Bernard with a better, more competent, and less condescending agent led to her work almost instantly becoming more successful than ever, selling for higher prices than she'd ever dreamed about and earning quickly-spreading recognition. But the most important part, and she _knew_ it was critical, was that she and her family were happy.

The red-haired woman rolled her neck briefly to work out the stiffness. She needed to take a break before she drove herself crazy. Delia knew what she was like when she worked on something.

She tended to fully immerse herself in her projects to the point of ignoring anything she decided could wait or wasn't important. It was a flaw she'd had for years, but rarely acknowledged. She could go a little overboard sometimes as she put her heart and soul into her work, which could affect everything including sleep.

That was what she did when Delia started renovating the house when they arrived; throwing herself into the project to the point she ignored the more challenging parts of their family and tried avoiding further stress from starting over in a new place. And when stress did hit, she returned to her childhood pattern where the façade was more important the substance. She fell on familiar things like dinner parties, polite small talk, and social climbing. She'd ignored almost everything else until disaster nearly struck.

Now Delia knew better. She acknowledged her flaws and tried to handle them better than in the past. She knew she needed to break a lifetime of habits. That meant stepping away from her work occasionally so that she didn't lose track of what mattered again.

Delia brushed off some of the worst of the dust of the drying clay. Her stained and worn outfit couldn't really be fixed though, practicality resulting in her work clothes being vastly cheaper than her normal and stylish attire. She might prefer to always look her best and to never appear before others in any other state, but sculpting wasn't the cleanest activity and Delia knew better than to ruin her more expensive outfits. Durability and unrestricted movement were more important qualities.

Only as she stepped away from the surreal sculpture did Delia notice the faint scent of warm peanut butter cookies drifting up from the kitchen. That pulled her towards the stairs like an inescapable force. While Delia specialized in more elaborate and extravagant recipes that could impress important dinner guests, Barbara was better with baking and more home-style cooking. And ignoring the pun, the ghost's cookies were to die for. Delia knew she should be happy that she wasn't currently on a diet because the taste was addicting.

As she suspected, she found the stack of cookies waiting in the kitchen. They'd managed to renovate the kitchen back to something between the two different styles of the resident couples and one of the features ended up being a breakfast bar on the end of the counter with two stools. As usual, that spot served as Lydia's homework station as she spread her books across the surface while munching on the cookies. Both Adam and Barbara leaned over the girl to offer advice and suggestions as she worked.

"Hello, Lydia," said Delia, briefly startling the trio who were intent on the books. "How was school today?"

"It was fine," she said with a shrug. After an awkward moment, Lydia set down her pencil, looked at her properly, and continued, "Nothing really interesting happened in class. And what about you? How was your day?"

They were trying. Delia and Lydia never got along smoothly. Neither of them really welcomed the other into their lives. They were different people and could be equally stubborn. But most important, they never made the effort to get along or understand the other. At least, not in the past.

They were trying now. They were trying to properly understand each other. They were trying to get along. They were trying to act more like members of the same family. An unusual family that included a father, step-mother, a daughter, and a ghostly couple who acted as a second set of parents.

Delia never felt like she could handle the responsibilities of being the mother of a young girl. Even when she married Charles and accepted that Lydia was part of the deal, she didn't think she could truly fulfill that role. It was too big for her to easily bear. She quickly learned to respect single parents because it seemed impossible to the woman. But now Lydia had four people taking care of her. With that many parental figures to help share the responsibility, Delia didn't feel so overwhelmed.

She was making the effort to be Lydia's step-mother. And the girl was making an effort in response.

"My day has been wonderful. My latest project is going beautifully. I can practically feel my vision flowing through my fingertips. Natural and as challenging as any form of creation should be," said Delia, her enthusiasm for her art bleeding into her tone. Then she forced herself to come back down to Earth and asked in a calmer voice, "You're welcome to come and see it. I would love to hear your opinion."

Lydia hesitated a moment before nodding and saying, "Maybe. I need to finish with the school stuff first, but I might come up later and look."

Delia smiled at that answer. Normally she rarely showed off her work before it was complete. It was part of her process. But she was trying. She was reaching out to Lydia, trying to make a connection. And Lydia was reaching back.

"I think that would be nice," said Delia. Taking the cookie that Adam offered, she said, "I guess I'll let you get back to work on this. Try not to stress yourself out and overdo it. Good grades are important, but it isn't the most important thing in the world."

The girl nodded before turning her attention back to her textbooks. Delia went to pour herself a glass of milk to go with her snack. Perhaps she should take some cookies up to Charles next. Visiting her husband and seeing how his bird-watching was going would be another nice break from her sculpture.

* * *

Climbing into bed after a long and complicated day should have been relaxing. It should have felt peaceful and Lydia should have felt relieved it was over for the moment so she could rest. She should have been content to curl up under the blankets and drift easily off to sleep.

But what should happen rarely did. Lydia's mind refused to properly calm and quiet down. The events of the day and random thoughts twirled and twisted and spun through her head. There was too much mental noise for her to settle down. She just couldn't stop thinking.

A certain ghost took up most of her brain. Betelgeuse turned out to be far more complicated than she ever imagined. She just kept figuring out more the longer she knew him.

On the surface, he appeared to be a sleazy, lecherous, filthy con artist with the personality of a used car salesman and nothing resembling morals. And just below that was the powerful and dangerous Ghost With The Most who could easily terrify and overwhelm anyone he chose. Those were the two most obvious sides to the ghost. Those were the sides he wanted people to see.

But she kept spotting other traits within his depths. Flashes and glimpses of something more kept peeking through now that she tried to look below the obvious. He didn't have exactly the standard set of morality, but he wasn't a complete monster and there seemed to be something resembling a conscience that occasionally guided him. Otherwise he would be immune to guilt or regret. His sense of humor wasn't always nice, but he could be funny when he tried and even poking around in her journal was amusing from a certain point of view. He was an easy person to talk to, both listening and chatting in a way that felt far too comfortable after only a day. And while Betelgeuse didn't say it, Lydia got the feeling that even if he would've been happy scaring Claire normally, he did it at that moment because the older girl was messing with Lydia. Like he wanted to protect her.

Then there were other things. He knew when not to pry into touchy subjects. He flat-out admitted he was inexplicably obsessed with Lydia and that she should banish him if she was smart. He _wanted_ to scare her just enough to ensure she would get rid of him, to make sure she was safe from him. And when she offered to see him in the morning anyway, Lydia realized that one of the deepest layers of the ghost's personality involved at least a little loneliness.

She liked him. She could admit it. Before he appeared in the mirror, Lydia hated him. But now, she liked him. She was happy she'd given him a second chance. There was something in him worth knowing, as odd as it might seem.

As chaotic as that entire train of thought left her mind, there were other things that kept her mind whirling too. How long could she keep him secret? Should she tell the Maitlands? Should she tell Dad and Delia? They would freak out.

All four of them would react badly to Betelgeuse's return. But it would be worse if they found out on their own. At least if she told them, she could control the situation and minimize the damage. Telling Adam and Barbara would be easier and she knew they would listen. They always listened. Dad and Delia were doing better, but they were still learning. The Maitlands weren't breaking old habits.

But that didn't change the fact that convincing even Adam and Barbara that he wasn't all that bad would be difficult. They would worry about her. Lydia figured she would need to tell them eventually, but that could wait until another day.

Rolling over in her bed, Lydia's mind then turned towards Claire. What would happen now with the older girl and her companions? Would they rant and rave about the monstrous and unnatural snake to everyone who would listen? Would other people call them liars? Would other people just assume they were exaggerating the size and think they were spooked by an ordinary snake? Would the girls think they imagined the enormity and uncanny human face out of fear, dismissing their own memories as faulty? Would they convince themselves it wasn't real? Would they believe _Lydia_ was somehow responsible?

And what would Claire do now? The older girl finally found a weak spot. She'd found the chink in her armor. After so many pathetic attempts, Claire knew how to hurt Lydia. And Betelgeuse's scare attempt probably wouldn't make her forget. Claire would remember and would try again. She would pry and tear away at old loss and grief. It might not hurt as much now that she knew to expect it, but it wouldn't be fun regardless. She didn't like the idea of the blonde girl using memories of Lydia's mother as a weapon, spouting slander and lies that still managed to cut. Those memories were too precious to let Claire corrupt. She treasured the memories of her mother too much.

Sleep finally managed to drag Lydia down, turbulent mind and all. But due to the current focus of her thoughts, it wasn't surprising the direction her dreams took or how much they were colored by memories of days long ago.

* * *

Daddy's work was mostly really boring. Lydia knew it was important and stuff, but she never really understood what it was supposed to be because it always bored her when he explained it. She knew it meant he went out of their home for really long stretches of time, like hours. And when he was home, Daddy would talk on the phone or look at stacks of paper with almost no pictures. Daddy's work just seemed really, really boring.

But sometimes Mommy would take Lydia to see Daddy's not boring work, the work that meant a ride on the crowded subway or in a yellow taxi to see the empty homes. That part of his work was fun, like an adventure. Lydia would get to run around the empty rooms and slide across the smooth floors while Daddy talked excitedly about the location, the view, the schools, or the remodeling work raising the value. Mommy would listen to his boring and complicated talk while still keeping an eye on Lydia.

Today she and Mommy would be going to see another apartment building. Lydia practically bounced as they rode the subway there. She remembered Mommy said that Daddy was really excited because there was a fire a while back and he managed to buy and remodel everything at a low cost. Lydia wasn't sure what all that meant, but Daddy was happy about it.

Lydia held Mommy's hand as she walked in the front door. Unlike home, there weren't a couple of elevators waiting for them. Instead, there was a staircase with a black-painted metal handrail that wound upwards, black and white tiles across the floor, and the funny smell she'd learned a long time ago came from new paint. The girl let Mommy pick her up and carry her as they climbed the stairs, Lydia still having trouble with them because of her shorter legs.

"Daddy is waiting on the third floor,' said Mommy, her daughter wrapping her arms around the woman's neck and peering over her shoulder back the way they came. "The rest of the rooms are still in-progress. Room 3F was finished first since it didn't have much damage. It'll make a good model home once they decorate it."

She didn't completely understand, but Lydia nodded as she watched them climb higher and higher. She wasn't scared of heights. She wasn't scared of the dark, bugs, or the big and loud dog that lived in the same building a few floors below their home. The other children she met during play-dates were scared of things like that, but not Lydia. And even if she didn't like storms, she wasn't _scared_. Thunder and lightning made her jump because storms were too loud, no matter how much she covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. But Lydia didn't get scared. She was a big girl and would be starting school soon. She was brave.

When they reached the third floor, Mommy kneeled and set her back down, smoothing out her dress. Lydia used the chance to peer down the hallway. She saw the maroon carpet, the tan walls, and rows of doors. But she also saw someone standing in the middle of the hallway. And even though Mommy and Daddy said it wasn't polite to stare at people regardless of how different they looked, Lydia couldn't help it.

"Mommy, Mommy,' she whispered, tugging at her sleeve as she finished straightening the girl's dress. "Who's that?"

"Who, Sweetheart?" asked Mommy as she turned to look, still kneeling beside the child.

Lydia felt Mommy stiffen as she spotted the other woman. While Lydia and Mommy had black hair, the stranger was a redhead with the ends and most of the left side blackened and burned away. The left side of her face, her left arm, large parts of the green shirt, and almost all of her pants were blackened, flaking apart, peeling away like pages of a book, and covered in a grey powder. Part of her still looked really pretty, but the left side especially looked odd and different than anyone she'd ever seen. And that included the funny people she sometimes saw on the subway.

"Fire. Right," said Mommy under her breath. Then she looked the girl in the eye and said, "You can see that lady?"

Lydia nodded and said, "Yes, Mommy. She's wearing a green shirt and has pretty red hair. Does she work with Daddy?"

"No. She probably used to live here," she said quietly.

"Oh," said Lydia. Biting her bottom lip briefly, she leaned closer and whispered, "Why does she look funny, Mommy? Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt her. Not anymore." Placing her hands on Lydia's shoulders, Mommy said, "Sweetheart, there are some people out there that are different. They've changed. Other people won't look or listen to them. They won't see these people because they're different. I can see them and apparently so can you. Daddy can't see them. Maybe someday, but not right now."

Lydia didn't understand. Why wouldn't Daddy be able to see the lady? She wasn't hiding. She was standing in the middle of the hallway.

"They might have changed and are different now, but they're still people," she continued. "Remember that, Lydia. They aren't monsters or superheroes. They're people. They can be nice or mean, just like any other person. They're just a little different than most people because they've changed. They have something unique about them now. But they're honestly no better or worse than anyone else in the world."

The little girl stared back at her mother solemnly. Lydia felt like Mommy was sharing something important, but she wasn't sure what. She already knew people could be nice or mean, just like no one was better than anyone else overall. Mommy told her that a lot. Everyone was equal and deserved to be treated nicely. She just wasn't sure what Mommy meant when she said they were unique. Did it have something to do with why the lady looked a little funny?

Straightening up, Mommy took her hand and led Lydia down the hallway a little. When they drew near the red-haired woman, Mommy paused to give her a smile.

"So do you haunt the whole building or just this floor?" she asked.

The red-haired woman looked really surprised when Mommy talked to her. She looked so shocked that Lydia couldn't help giggling a little. When the lady glanced towards the girl, Lydia waved towards her.

"Yes, we can see you. Do you haunt this entire building or just this floor?"

Hesitantly, she said, "I… I can go everywhere in this building. It was my home."

"I see… Well, my name is Cathy and this is my daughter, Lydia," said Mommy gently.

"My name is Rebecca. Rebecca Carter."

Nodding briefly, Mommy said, "My husband's real estate company bought the property and are renovating it. Do you have any problem with people living here again?"

"As long as they don't cause trouble and the person in charge doesn't turn it into a slum, I don't mind," she said with a smile. "It is nice to have someone who can see me again."

"Don't worry, Rebecca," said Mommy. "Once people move back in, you might be able to find someone to properly haunt a little. Sheer numbers will be on your side. But it was also nice to meet you." Glancing back down towards her daughter, Mommy said, "Come along, Lydia. We shouldn't make Daddy wait too long."

Lydia followed Mommy past a few more doors down the hall. Eventually curiosity got the better of her.

"Mommy, what does 'haunt' mean?"

Smiling towards the child holding her hand, Mommy stopped. She was smiling, but there was something a little sad and regretful about it. Lydia just couldn't understand. Why would she be a little sad? Was something bothering her? But she mostly looked happy. Lydia didn't understand. Was this one of the weird grown-up things?

"I'll explain what it means and about people like Rebecca more when you're older. You deserve to enjoy a normal life, to have a chance to make your own decisions about this later on when you can understand it. I won't force this on you, but I won't completely keep you away either. It won't be your entire childhood. I won't make my parents' mistakes. You'll get to know about people like Rebecca when you're old enough to really understand what it means. Life is for the living, but you shouldn't fear or hate them either."

Lydia stared at her parent in complete and utter confusion. She didn't know what Mommy was talking about at all. Everything had been strange since they came up the stairs.

Recognizing her daughter's confusion, Mommy shook her head and said, "Don't worry about it, Sweetheart. Let's go see Daddy."

And finally understanding what was happening again, Lydia nodded excitedly as Mommy opened the door.

* * *

"I know your father's business-related parties aren't much fun. His boss is so dull and his wife acts like she has stuffing in her head like a scarecrow," said Mom as the pair climbed into the back of the taxi with their shopping bag. "At least you found a dress you like. And if it takes too long, we'll leave early and your father can call a cab back."

Lydia nodded distantly, staring at the traffic outside. Mom was right. If there was one thing she'd learned in her seven years, it was that the formal and dull dinner parties were boring. And they seemed to last forever since there was nothing for her to talk about except when Mom started muttering about how she should start juggling fruit or knives to liven things up. But Mom didn't make her stay too long at those parties. She never did. Sometimes they'd even go to the movies afterwards. She just didn't like going.

But the party wasn't the reason for her current mood. Her mind was distracted and her mood felt dark for far different reasons than upcoming boredom.

"Are you sure you like the dress, Sweetheart?" asked Mom. "We could go find something else if you're not happy with it. Honest."

"It's fine," Lydia said, looking at the black fabric in the bag. "The saleslady said it looked classy and elegant. It'll be fine."

Shopping could be so hard sometimes. Almost all the clothing for girls her age seemed to be pink and other bright colors. That's what they were supposed to like. She'd started preferring darker tones, though. And that just made the whole shopping thing hard and frustrating.

At the first store, Lydia couldn't stand the dresses. They were too cheerful and loud. The closest to an outfit she liked was the red one that reminded her of ladybugs. And even that one didn't seem right. But it was what she was supposed to want.

Mom noticed her lack of enthusiasm, though. It took a little prodding and coaxing to make the girl admit why she wasn't happy with what they were looking at. And when she explained hesitantly what she did like, Mom took her somewhere else and showed her options that weren't as bright.

She helped her daughter find something beautiful, comfortable, and less "cute." Lydia adored it. And it looked a little like the dresses the women at the dinner parties sometimes wore, so it must be all right. Even if it wasn't what most girls were supposed to want, it must still be all right if adults liked them. Mom simply smiled when she pulled it from the racks and told Lydia that she's never too young to have a little black dress.

Shifting in her seat slightly as the taxi turned, Mom said, "You know, I knew another girl who liked dark colors and dark clothes. She was older than you when we met, but she was a nice girl. A little quiet and I never understood why she wanted those tattoos and piercings, but she was a good friend."

Lydia looked up at her curiously. Mom didn't talk about things from before she met Dad. She knew they met at the circus, but that was about it. So anything Mom wanted to share, Lydia would listen.

"And do you know what her name was?" she continued. "It was Lydia."

"You named me after your friend?"

"Yes, I did," Mom said, brushing the girl's hair back from her face. "She was smart, nice, and loyal. And she was never afraid to be herself. You share your name with a unique and brave young woman who didn't look or act like anyone else. So never be afraid to be different. Though you're not allowed to get a tattoo until you're at least in college." That prompted a brief smile from Lydia as the woman continued, "If something makes you happy, then don't be afraid to enjoy it. Don't hide your preferences or pretend to like something just because someone says that's what girls are _supposed_ to be like. And Alexis doesn't know everything."

Her jaw dropped as Lydia said, "You knew?"

"You mean, did I know the kid in your class said that all girls like pink, bugs are gross, and being pretty is the only way to be worth anything when you grow up? Yes, I knew," Mom said, raising an eyebrow. "Moms know everything. Unlike Alexis Blankenship, who just thinks she does. Is that what's been bothering you, Sweetheart?"

"No," said Lydia. Then her shoulders slumped a little and she mumbled, "Maybe a little."

As the cab stopped at the light, Mom wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and hugged her close. Lydia couldn't help smiling a little at that, her mood brightening.

"Sweetheart, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. You're my bright, wonderful, kind-hearted, and special daughter and you shouldn't force yourself to be anyone else. I love you just the way you are."

"But what if my friends don't like me if I like black clothes, bugs and spiders, bats, and scary movies?"

Smiling at her daughter encouragingly, Mom said, "Trust me. You'll find people who adore you. They'll see how great you are even when everyone around you miss it. They're out there. You'll find friends who'll care about you _because_ of who you are, not in spite of it. So don't be anyone except my Lydia and you'll find people who think that's the greatest thing in the world. You just need to be patient."

The taxi started moving again as Lydia smiled back. Then several horns blared out. Mom instantly wrapped herself around the girl as tires screeched, metal bent, glass shattered, and the driver screamed. Everything jerked, spun, flipped, and jolted in a hurricane of motion. The world exploded in a chaotic storm of deafening sounds and violent movement, her mother's hold the only stability.

Lydia blinked groggily as she tried to wake up, not even sure why she fell asleep. It couldn't have been for more than a minute or so. Everything ached, but her head and right ankle hurt the worst. Her head pounded like a drum and the pain in her ankle was sharp as a knife. She felt sick and she couldn't move. Lydia was stuck, half-sitting and half lying down. Something warm and wet kept dripping on her. And all she could see was the shopping bag right in front of her.

Whimpering with pain, confusion, and fear, Lydia tried to figure out what happened. She heard car horns, indistinct shouts, and approaching sirens. Lots of sirens.

"Ly… Lydia?"

The tired, weak, and confused voice made the girl sob with relief. Mom would fix everything. She would make things better.

"Mom," said Lydia with a wavering voice. "W-what happened?"

Everything ached and hurt. There was something heavy on her, holding her down and protecting her. She couldn't move. She couldn't even turn her head. Lydia was stuck staring at the shopping bag.

The logo was supposed to be black and white. Why was there red on the bag?

"Don't… don't be sc… don't be scared," Mom murmured, her voice right next to her ear. "Don't f-fear…"

"Mom?" whimpered the girl, growing more afraid for reasons she couldn't explain. "It h-hurts. Mom, p-please…"

The weight holding her down was Mom. That's why her voice sounded so close. But something was wrong. She felt a lot farther away.

There was a lot of red on the shopping bag.

The tears on her face were warm and wet. But there was something else warm and wet still dripping. Warm, wet, and sticky.

"Don't f-fear dea…," Mom murmured, her words and voice rising and falling in strength and volume. "Ly… Lydia. 's all right…"

"M-mommy. W-what's wrong?"

She felt something move. Someone wrapped Lydia's small hand in their larger one. Their grip felt weak. And sticky. Mom's hand was covered in something warm, wet, and sticky. She wanted to hold on, but Lydia started shaking a little.

There was too much red.

"S… sorry, S-sweetheart," she said, her voice barely audible as the shouts outside grew louder and people moved around. "D-didn't want… t-to leave you…"

"M-mommy," said Lydia, panicking for reasons she didn't want to think about.

She tried to move, fighting to get out. But she was trapped. She couldn't even budge her foot and trying made her left ankle explode in more pain that left her gasping. She was stuck.

"D-don't leave me," begged Lydia, tears rolling down her face. "I don't w-want to be alone."

Mom shouldn't be able to go away. She should be stuck too. She wasn't even trying to move. But something deep down told the seven year old that Mom was leaving somehow. Even if she was right beside the girl, she was going away and would leave her alone.

There was too much red. The white shopping bag was almost completely the wrong color now. And wet. The shopping bag was red and wet. Just like Lydia.

She heard someone shouting not far away. Calling for help. Saying there was a kid trapped inside. Saying they needed to pry the door open and get her. But Lydia didn't pay attention.

Mom's hand was still there, but she wasn't returning her grip anymore. She wasn't talking anymore.

Everything ached, but a painfully tight lump forming in her throat and chest hurt the worst. Tears rolled down her face, pushing past everything that dripped on her already. Sobs choked and shook the child as frantic people tried to pull the warped door of the taxi open.

Someone was talking in a semi-calm and soothing voice, saying they would get her out and everything would be all right. Lydia couldn't see them; all she could see was the red-stained shopping bag. But she knew they were wrong. How could everything be all right?

She was alone. She didn't want to be alone. There were people nearby, but she was alone. For the first time that Lydia could remember, she felt completely and utterly alone.

* * *

Lydia's eyes flew open, her heart racing. She didn't bolt upright, but it was a near thing. And from the lack of worried Maitlands hurrying into her bedroom, she didn't make much noise during her turbulent sleep either.

A quick glance towards the window proved that it was still the middle of the night, not even the faintest hints of dawn showing. Hopefully she would be able to get back to sleep for a few hours. And maybe she wouldn't dream of days gone by.

Rolling over to her other pillow, Lydia mumbled, "Stupid Claire."

It was that blonde girl's fault. She's the one who dragged up old wounds, talking about her mother leaving. Mom didn't mean to leave and it wasn't her fault, but she did. She did leave them.

Stupid Claire. Maybe she would get lucky and Betelgeuse's snake trick would give the blonde teenager nightmares all week. It would serve her right.

Trying to think of almost anything other than the past, Lydia managed to settle back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that last flashback/dream sequence was a rough one. And I'm kind of a mean writer. But if it makes you feel any better, it made me just as upset to write it as it made you to read it.


	7. Another Day of School

The morning turned out to be rather foggy and a little on the chilly side. Not that he really noticed the temperature beyond vaguely recognizing that it was cooler than it was the day before. The cold never bothered him anyway. The early hour bugged him a lot more than the weather.

Betelgeuse found a spot to wait that should be far enough from the house that no prying eyes would spot him, but close enough that she wouldn't be able to sneak by him. Not that he thought she'd try to do that for some reason. He found himself still believing his girl's offer was completely legitimate and she wanted to meet up again. But that didn't mean she wouldn't accidentally miss him and think he decided not to show. Betelgeuse oddly didn't want her to assume he chose to stand her up, so he needed to keep an eye out for her.

Leaning against the first tree on the winding road that led away from her house, Betelgeuse pulled the cigarette away and blew a cloud of smoke in the shape of a spiral. Waiting could be so boring and he needed to occupy himself somehow. Cigarettes didn't exist in his lifetime and he didn't have a chance to get addicted to the things before his demise. And getting properly addicted while dead didn't work; a lifeless body couldn't develop the physical craving for it. But after being surrounded by Juno's smoke for a few years, he started to see the appeal of the things. It gave him something to occupy his hands, distract his mind, and stave off boredom a little. And as an added bonus, it couldn't actually harm him like it could the living.

When the bike rolled into view, Betelgeuse watched her face closely. Her expression started out as hopeful and searching, her eyes constantly moving. Then the instant that she spotted him lurking around, Lydia's face brightened significantly. There was no surprise, though.

Even with no deals, promises, or guarantees, the girl believed he would show up just as he believed her request to see him was real. She trusted that the poltergeist would be waiting for her. And when her faith proved right, it made her visibly happy. Just like the day before, seeing Lydia's smile felt nice. Especially when he apparently caused the smile by merely being present.

"Good morning, Babes," he said as her bike came to a halt beside him. "Since I had nothing better to do, I figured I could go ahead and check out your morning commute."

Lydia gave him a knowing smirk, making it clear that she didn't believe his flimsy excuse. But she didn't say anything. She let him maintain his weak smokescreen of a defense. Sometimes a guy needed some plausible deniability when it came to motivations and emotional stuff that he didn't want to discuss or consider. Or sometimes a guy needed to protect his reputation. Betelgeuse honestly didn't know which one was his reason at the moment, but he just felt the need to toss out an excuse for his presence. And even if she clearly saw through it, she let him keep the excuse in place.

He knew Lydia got him.

"Hey," she said. "I'm still working on what to call you. Your initials, B-man, Mr. Juice, Spooky… Got any preferences?"

Betelgeuse muttered, "Definitely not _Spooky_."

She chuckled a little, ducked her head, and said, "All right. I'll keep working on it." Glancing back at him, Lydia asked, "So what are we going to do? If we walk like we did yesterday, I'll be late to class."

"Would that be so bad?" he asked before shaking his head slightly. "Hold on a second, Lyds. I've got this."

A twist of power and the bike began to stretch and warp, making Lydia yelp in surprise. With a little concentration, Betelgeuse reshaped the thing into a bicycle built for two. It wasn't particularly hard, but he did spare a moment of pride at his girl's look of impressed surprise.

"Okay, that solves one problem," said Lydia. "But won't people notice? Even if they don't see you, bikes made for two people aren't exactly common."

Rolling his eyes as he climbed on the back seat he'd created, he said, "Babes, if I can't manage a simple illusion, then I need to retire from the haunting game."

The girl started pedaling, putting the altered bike into motion. While Betelgeuse didn't feel like helping, he wasn't so cruel that he would make Lydia work harder to propel the bike just because she'd gained a passenger. In addition to projecting an illusion of her normal bicycle, he floated just enough that he ended up weightless. And thanks to centuries of practice, the poltergeist could pull off both tricks and still manage a conversation without losing concentration.

"Illusions, huh? I guess that _would_ be easier than turning into a snake or something," said Lydia, speaking loud so she could be heard over the rush of wind as they sped down the hill.

Actually, they were actually making impressive time. The slope of the hill meant she barely needed to pedal. Gravity was helping out and all she really needed to do was avoid crashing.

"Not exactly," he corrected, also speaking up so he could be heard. "Reshaping yourself is one of the first tricks ghosts learn, usually followed by telekinesis. That's as easy as it gets. Any ghost can figure out how to do it. Illusions are a little tougher because you've got to focus on what exactly you want to create. Sight, sounds, smells, and so on. Illusions take more concentration than new ghosts can usually manage." He shrugged even though the girl couldn't see behind her and said, "They _do_ take very little power to create and maintain, though. That makes them perfect for doing something that looks impressive while being energy cheap. Not to mention they're useful for charades."

He watched her nod thoughtfully as they rode across the bridge at high speeds. She was definitely going to remember that information, locking it away in her brain for later. His girl's curiosity about ghosts seemed insatiable. According to what he'd observed and learned from glancing in her journal, Lydia read through the Handbook until she actually understood the thing.

That fact told him a lot about her. She wanted to learn and understand. And she wasn't afraid to work at that goal. Otherwise, why would she apparently go through the trouble of dealing with the technical and bureaucratic language of the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased" like that? They practically _designed_ it to be boring. It wasn't exactly light reading material.

"So what about the wardrobe changes? Where exactly does that fall on the ghost power range?" she asked.

"Do you mean _my_ wardrobe changes or are you still complaining about your wedding dress? Because I still think red is a great shade on you, Babes."

"Let's just say both. And even if you like the color, that much red tulle was definitely a mistake."

Betelgeuse chuckled slightly as she pedaled the bike right through the middle of town, still using the speed she'd accumulated from the hill. A few other early risers were in view, but they wouldn't be able to see him and his power ensured they wouldn't see the alterations to the bike. The morning fog would have probably been enough anyway, but it never hurt to be thorough.

"Well, neither are common tricks for the average ghosts," said Betelgeuse casually. "Changing my outfits took a while to figure out and master, even if it doesn't require that much energy to actually accomplish. It just isn't something most of us can do. Even other poltergeists tend to be stuck looking like they did when they died, but there _are_ perks to being me."

"Like being able to carry around that giant ego?"

Smirking a little at her words and a little at the fact she was comfortable enough to say it in front of him without hesitation, Betelgeuse continued, "Now creating something out of nothing like a certain dress that you _refuse_ to appreciate properly is one of the more energy-costly stunts and is impossible for your average run-of-the-mill ghosts. I can do it and some can do it to more limited degrees, but most can't manage creating anything and certainly nothing very big. Transforming, reshaping, rearranging, and otherwise changing something that already exists takes a lot less power and generally gets the same result you want anyway."

"So illusions don't take much power, warping something into something else takes more energy, and creating stuff from scratch is the toughest," she summarized. "I'm guessing you can do more than just that."

"Yeah. A _lot_ more, Babes. They call me the Ghost With The Most and that's not because I'm some kind of one-trick pony. I'm _good_ at what I do."

"Am I going to hear the full list of your powers?"

"Maybe. But since you seem worried about not being late and because explaining the impressive array of all my skills would take some time, you'll have to wait." Glancing over her shoulder, he remarked, "And this looks like my stop, Lyds. You better drop me off here in case one of your classmates turns out to be a bit more observant than the rest of them. And if you slow down rather than making me tuck and roll, I'll even put your bike back the way it was."

Applying the brakes just enough to bring the speeding bicycle to a more gradual and safe stop, Lydia let him climb off and stand at the side of the road. With a quick flick of power, metal twisted and shrank back until her bike returned to normal. Once he was satisfied everything looked back to the way it should be, Betelgeuse straightened out his jacket.

"Well, the direct route through town certainly took less time than forest path," he said. "Or maybe it was because you ride that bike like a crazy speed demon. Not that it's a _bad_ thing, but death by bicycle isn't exactly dignified…"

Smiling briefly, Lydia shrugged and said, "Most of the trip was downhill, so that makes it easier to build up some speed. And I've been doing this for a while, so I'm not exactly scared of crashing."

"Fine. But if you crack your skull open, don't come whining to me," Betelgeuse muttered. He took a moment to glance towards her school and said as casually as he could manage, "Listen, if that blonde girl and her minions start looking too comfortable, let me know. They weren't exactly the most challenging haunting job I've ever dealt with, but they were entertaining. And I _hate_ being bored."

A look of understanding briefly crossed Lydia's face. She knew what he was offering. She knew what he was trying to tell her. Which was a good thing because he wasn't completely sure what he was doing anymore. He just seemed to react on instinct and impulse when dealing with his girl.

He reached into his pocket and handed her a card. And before she could react, he turned and walked away into the fog. He didn't say when he'd see her again or if he planned to show up without being called. They both knew he was already too ensnared to leave for very long.

* * *

Lydia watched him briefly as the ghost vanished into the fog before she looked at the card he'd pressed into her hand. A cartoon beetle with a human face and an oversized mallet advertised his services as a bio-exorcist. And printed on the left side three times was the word " _ **Betelgeuse**_."

Well, that answered the question of how to spell his name. He was not the most subtle ghost in the world. Though the spelling seemed vaguely familiar, like something she'd seen once and barely remembered.

She tucked the business card away and pedaled the rest of the way to school. She made it early, so there weren't many other girls around yet. There were just a few drowsy students wandering the grounds as Lydia tied up her bike. She rather liked the quiet for the moment. Even when he acted friendly and easy-going, Betelgeuse was an overwhelming personality of chaos. A little peace felt nice. Especially since it let her think and try to remember where she saw the word before.

Based on what she knew about the older girl, Lydia honestly didn't expect to see Claire at school so early. But as she headed past the lockers towards the small school library, Claire stepped out of the restroom. Lydia assumed she'd just finished checking her makeup or something. Regardless of what the blonde girl was doing, she spotted Lydia instantly.

"Morning, Claire," said Lydia dryly, unable to ignore or avoid the older girl.

The death glare the blonde girl tried to aim at her seemed mildly impressive. Of course, she'd encountered far worse expressions before. Not to mention that Claire couldn't put all the snobby and spiteful venom into her gaze that she wanted because there was an undercurrent of uneasy fear still present. Betelgeuse definitely left an impression on her psyche.

"So you didn't die from that killer snake," Claire tried to sneer haughtily. "I guess big, slimy freaks belong together."

Crossing her arms, Lydia explained casually, "First, snakes aren't slimy. At all. And second, why would that little snake be dangerous for anyone?"

"Little? That snake was huge," she snapped. "And it… it had a human face. And fangs."

Using as much acting skill as she could summon, Lydia stared innocently and asked, "What do you mean? It was just a little snake. You could probably have stuck him in a shoe box. I'm still trying to figure out what scared you and your friends so much."

"But it was huge and…" Claire trailed off as her expression grew more and more uncertain. Then she shook her head and said quietly, "Maybe it wasn't quite that bad. Creepy, disgusting, and ugly things sometimes seem worse than they are."

"Or you just panic over nothing sometimes," said Lydia before hurrying back down the hall.

Other than a gray-haired, bespectacled, wrinkled old woman sitting behind a desk, the school library was deserted. While Lydia considered going through a dictionary or an encyclopedia, she figured she would have better luck using a different source.

The five computers in the school library were available for any student to use, but were also positioned so that the librarian could monitor and supervise their activities. Lydia claimed one and pulled up the internet, typing in a search for "Betelgeuse."

Articles about stars and the constellation of Orion quickly appeared. And that sparked memories of trips to the various museums in New York City. Those memories fluttered through her head, explaining why the word seemed faintly familiar. She'd seen it printed on an exhibit about astronomy, but never heard it read out loud and barely recalled the visit at all. Lydia did find it interesting that the poltergeist turned out to be named for a star. His parents were certainly creative.

"Do you need any help, dear," asked the librarian sweetly.

Looking up from a computer screen covered in images of sparkling stars, Lydia said, "No, thanks. I'm just doing some research."

"Oh, are you doing a project on constellations?"

"Something like that."

"Well, if you need any help with that, I have some books on the topic that you might like."

* * *

Sneaking into her room still wasn't that difficult, even with the Maitlands back in the household. They hadn't picked up the knack for sensing other ghosts yet. So all Betelgeuse needed to do was soundproof the walls again and step through the window like before. Once inside, no one would notice the dead guy lurking around the girl's bedroom.

He didn't know what brought him to Lydia's room this time. At least, he wasn't certain how to explain the impulse. But it was either poke around her room again or linger at her school. And he figured the school would be boring and at least he could find something to occupy his time.

Maybe he would be sent back to the Netherworld that afternoon like she originally agreed, but he wasn't certain that it was likely anymore. Things had changed in the last two days. Maybe he would leave the small town finally. He could visit New York City, Las Vegas, or Los Angeles. Or maybe London, Paris, Hong Kong, or somewhere else international. Places with larger populations offered more chances for fun and more potential saps to swindle. He could head out somewhere and enjoy himself. But regardless of what happened next, Betelgeuse knew he would be pulled back to his girl and this place at some point in the future. Just like he felt drawn there today.

He still couldn't explain it, deny it, or resist it. The girl had a hold of him, like she managed to find a metaphorical rope to tie a knot around him. Or a _leash_. Thinking of it in those terms made him uncomfortable, reminding Betelgeuse of how much he hated being controlled by anyone. But Lydia didn't purposefully try to manipulate him and didn't seem to realize she'd gained that hold at all until Betelgeuse told her of the inexplicable obsession. He couldn't resent her for pulling him in without meaning to do so. And he couldn't ignore how possessive he felt of her. Lydia might draw Betelgeuse in like a magnet, but equally true was the fact the girl was _his_.

Why? What about the pale, dark-haired child made her so intriguing and appealing? The surprising amount of spirit and fire she possessed? Her enthusiasm for her various passions? Her ability to forgive and offer second chances even to him? Her trust for someone who no one else would consider trusting? Her clear loyalty towards those she cares for, as demonstrated with the Maitlands? Something else, an intangible and indescribable aspect of the girl? Was there a particular part of her personality that could be considered responsible for the situation? Or maybe it was the complete whole, her specific thoughts, feelings, and heart? He was drawn to Lydia because she was _Lydia_.

The poltergeist pulled a beetle out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth, crunching it between his teeth. He kept mentally wandering over the same mysteries, trying to understand things that refused to be comprehended. Mostly things dealing with her. He could either keep thinking in circles or do something useful. Like snacking on insects. Or reading through her journal some more.

The journal turned out to be exactly where Lydia kept it before. Betelgeuse half-expected her to move it somewhere else to hide it. Not that it would help, but he assumed she would make the effort. Either she didn't notice his addition to her journal or she didn't think about finding a new hiding place for some reason.

He flipped through a few pages to where he'd scribbled. Betelgeuse chuckled slightly when he saw she left a reply. He rather liked that. His girl could surprise him with her decisions sometimes.

Betelgeuse turned a page to see her most recent entry. Apparently she'd decided to record the complicated interactions of the past few days.

_Things have taken a turn for the strange, even by my standards._

_I had a visitor yesterday. In my mirror. He Who Must Not Be Named (since he doesn't seem to like having his name misspelled) showed up in the reflection and we started talking._

_Well, we started yelling at each other through the mirror. Yelling, attempts to convince me to continue the almost-wedding, ineffective threats, and so on. Thankfully Dad, Delia, Barbara, and Adam were all gone or else they would have been worried about all the noise from the two of us._

_And thanks our shouting match, I ended up learning a few interesting facts and he made an uncomfortable discovery. The biggest thing was that he didn't realize my age when we made the deal. And when he found out, he honestly felt bad about trying to force someone my age into marriage._

_There's more to him than what I originally thought. Even if he hides it, there's clearly more to him than the ghostly, crazy, sleazy, bio-exorcist with the personality of a used car salesman. So I let him out of the Netherworld and told him that I wouldn't put him back for two days._

_It sounds stupid to do that after everything that happened, but I did it. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And so far, it hasn't been too bad. No panic in the streets or chaos. Other than apparently finding a woman with no standards, the only thing he's really done is stalk me and freak out Claire's group when they started bothering me too much. While I didn't like seeing the creepy snake again, watching them run away in fear is actually pretty nice._

_Letting him out wasn't a mistake. It should have been, but it wasn't. As strange as it might sound to anyone else, I don't regret giving him this chance._

_Though we might need to have a talk about privacy._

That last line made him smirk. Betelgeuse found it rather amusing that his girl thought he would listen to her discussion about the idea of privacy. He didn't like limitations in any form.

Of course, Betelgeuse couldn't just leave things alone. With that last sentence, he had to make a comment. She had to at least expect it a little and he didn't want to disappoint. How could he resist the temptation?

Pulling out his pen from a pocket, the poltergeist carefully considered what he wanted to say. Most of what she wrote seemed relatively… emotional based and thoughtful about stuff. Betelgeuse wasn't touching that. If she wanted to be contemplative, that's fine. He kept finding himself doing the same thing. That didn't mean he wanted to chat about it. A clever and amusing comment would be more fun.

_**Look on the bright side, Babes. You know how to spell my name now. I gave you a card and everything.** _

Satisfied with the short note he'd scribbled down, he tossed her journal back in the drawer. Then Betelgeuse collapsed lazily on her bed. Her pillows were quite comfortable and he wouldn't mind a few hours sleep.

* * *

He wasn't waiting for her after class this time.

Lydia honestly didn't know if she was surprised, disappointed, or calmly indifferent. It wasn't like she _needed_ him to walk home. She didn't need him playing bodyguard against a few older girls. And he didn't say he would be waiting for her. He wasn't under any obligation to show up. He had no reason to show up that afternoon, so there was no reason why she should expect him to be there. It made more sense for him to be absent than it did for Betelgeuse to be lurking around.

She took the long way through the forest, just in case. She didn't see any hint of the poltergeist and she only stopped twice for photographs. Claire and her companions didn't follow her. In general, other than a few books about the stars that the librarian practically stuffed into the backpack herself, there was nothing unusual going on at all. It was like any other afternoon before he reappeared in her life.

A small part of her wondered what he'd decided to do that afternoon. Hunt down another drunk woman who wouldn't care about the fact he was dead? Con someone into hiring him to haunt a house? Con someone into a wedding? Scare someone? Or maybe he stole a car or something before heading out of town? She wouldn't put it past him. Especially if Betelgeuse found a nice, expensive, fast car. She could easily imagine him finding an awesome car and using it to catch the attention of women who weren't completely drunk. Or at least _trying_ to catch their attention. He wasn't one to give up easily.

She vaguely considered the possible things he might be doing for the rest of the bike ride home. It was a nice distraction for the journey and a lot more entertaining than contemplating her homework.

Granted, she didn't have a lot of homework. But it was _boring_ homework. It seemed like every year, there was at least one assignment meant to remind them about the scientific method. The teachers really didn't have much confidence in their ability to remember information. Either that or this was the first time they were teaching it in Winter River and they just taught it sooner at her old school. Regardless, Lydia knew the basic information already and didn't appreciate having to go over it again.

As she reached the top of the hill and parked her bike, Lydia spotted her father coming out the front door. He held a list in one hand that he was going over diligently to the point he didn't immediately notice her. Only when he caught a glimpse of his daughter out of the corner of his eye did he jolt in surprise and nearly stumble, forcing her to suppress a few chuckles.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted. "Grocery shopping or does Delia need more supplies for her art?"

"Grocery shopping," said her father with a shrug. "Barbara asked if I could pick up a few things for dinner and your mother was busy."

"Step-mother," she corrected under her breath. Then in a louder voice, she asked, "Do you think you can pick up some spaghetti while you're out? I think that would be great for one of these evenings."

"Already on the list, Pumpkin," said the man. "Someone definitely knew what you like. I think Adam wrote out most of the list. It looks like his handwriting, anyway."

"I'll tell him thanks when I get inside," Lydia said. "How was your day, Dad?"

He smiled and said, "Good. Very good. I saw a few very interesting birds. I'm still having trouble identifying them in the book, but I'm making progress on that."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

She honestly was. A few months ago, she would have resented his efforts to take up bird-watching because it was yet another way he could ignore her and what she thought. They decided to move somewhere new without talking to her about it. They chose a location that he could take up a relaxing hobby of bird-watching and Delia would still be close enough to participate in the art scene when she desired. Moving to Winter River had nothing to do with Lydia's opinions, even if she did love her home now.

But they were all trying to be a better family. And that meant listening to each other and supporting each other. So if her father wanted to bird-watch, she was happy he was enjoying himself. Especially since he didn't brush her off just because he spotted some rare bird (or one he thought looked rare).

She liked looking at the progress they'd made. She liked to think about how things were improving. It helped reassure her some days.

"Do you want me to pick up anything else for you, Pumpkin? Maybe some yogurt or another snack?"

Giving him a quick smile, Lydia said, "If they have any good strawberry yogurt, I wouldn't mind some."

"Great. I'll put it on the list."

He started writing the addition to the list even as he headed towards the car, no longer really looking where he was going as he walked. Lydia just shook her head ruefully at how quickly her father ended up absorbed by the errand. Dad could have his occasional dorky moments just like Adam. It must be an inherent father thing.

Lydia slipped inside the house and listened carefully. Judging by the music, Barbara and Adam were in the attic. While they were busy, she could head to her room and grab the rest of her film. Maybe she could develop some of her photographs in the basement before addressing her homework.

She didn't hear anything until she opened the door. Then Lydia was greeted by surprisingly-loud snoring. She froze briefly in surprise before she lunged inside and shut the door, hoping to cut off the noise before her family noticed.

Stretched out across her bed, snoring loudly and drooling onto one of her pillows, was Betelgeuse. The poltergeist was sleeping on her bed. He didn't seem to notice or care that it didn't belong to him. He seemed perfectly content to claim her bed for his own use, getting dirt and mold all over her comforter.

There was a dead guy resting in peace in her room. The whole thing was mildly ridiculous.

She stared silently for a moment before rolling her eyes at the entire spectacle. He could have at least kicked off his shoes first. Of course, she should probably see if he'd made a mess of anything else before his nap.


	8. Ghostly Parental Figures

He woke up to something smacking him in the head. Betelgeuse flailed wildly for a moment before he realized that the object hitting him in the head was a pillow and he probably didn't need to start throwing his power around in defense. And then it smacked him again, the soft impact more surprising than painful. Feeling rather confused by the odd wakeup call, the poltergeist sat up just in time for a third hit from the pillow.

"Jerk," said Lydia, her tone more mildly annoyed than burning with anger as she smacked him with a pillow. "Stop. Writing. In my. _Journal_."

Cackling while she hit him with each word, Betelgeuse raised his arms up in slight defense and asked, "You're surprised I did it again? You _knew_ I did it yesterday."

"I let you get away with it once. _Once_ ," said Lydia, smacking him one last time before throwing the pillow at his face. "That's not an invitation to keep doing it."

"Come on, Babes," he said, still laughing. "This is _me_. The very existence of your journal is an invitation to meddle. And I didn't damage it or anything. I just added to it."

She was certainly annoyed with him. Betelgeuse could recognize the emotion on anyone by now. Her body language and facial expression firmly declared her feelings. She was annoyed with him for messing with her journal, but there was a distinct lack of anger and venom from her. Lydia might be hitting him with a pillow, but she wasn't that upset about the situation. And when he caught sight of her struggling with concealing a smile, he knew he was right. Annoyed, but also a little amused. She just didn't want to admit it.

"People don't mess with other people's journals," said Lydia. "That's just common decency. Didn't anyone ever teach you about the concept of privacy?"

"Lyds, if you seriously didn't want me looking at the thing, you wouldn't have written back."

She didn't respond to that statement. Lydia just scowled at him while clearly fighting back her amusement. And her scowl only deepened when he smirked at her silence.

Crossing her arms, Lydia turned to glare at almost _anything_ else and said, "Next time you decide to take a nap on someone else's bed without permission, try not to leave foot prints on the comforter. Shoes _off_ the bed. You're leaving dirt on my stuff."

"And yet you tried to smear mold all over you pillow by hitting my face with it?" he said, still grinning. "Face it, Lyds. This doesn't bug you nearly as much as you're pretending right now. You're having a good time."

Lydia opened her mouth to respond somehow, but her door latch starting to turn made them freeze in surprise. In less than a second, he saw her expression flash between shock, panic, and finally apologetic. Her voice came out as a quick, quiet, desperate hiss.

"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, _Betelgeuse!_ "

He was thrown out of her room before the door fully opened, banishing him back to the Netherworld. It yanked him away before he could be seen and before he could react. The most he could manage was to aim for somewhere other than the Waiting Room itself.

Betelgeuse appeared in a dark alleyway, one he recognized as being close to a couple of very friendly female ghosts from the sixties who welcomed the occasional visit. Sighing tiredly, he leaned against the closest wall and closed his eyes, muttering a quiet curse of annoyance. He dug a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a flicker of power.

As the thin tendril of smoke began to curl around his head, Betelgeuse stared at the darkness quietly. He understood why Lydia sent him away. Everyone in that household would be able to see him, remember him, and hate him. Getting caught would be nothing but a lot of aggravation. And she kept her word. He was out for two days. A deal's a deal and she didn't owe him anything.

But she would call him back eventually. He didn't even question that thought. Everything he'd seen so far told him that Lydia would invite him back. This was a temporary setback. He could hang around the Netherworld for a little while. Given enough time, either Lydia would summon him back or he could go haunt her mirror. He would be out soon enough.

Until then, he knew which dead women would respond to his advances. Maybe he could pay them a visit while Lydia was busy.

* * *

Doing her best to appear calm and innocent, Lydia plastered on a smile like she _hadn't_ just banished a poltergeist and prepared to greet whoever was coming through her door. It had to be Delia. The Maitlands would have knocked on the door first. Lydia fully expected Delia to be the one opening the door.

So she couldn't quite hide her surprise when Barbara poked her head inside.

"Hey, Lydia. I knocked, but you never answered. Are you all right? Did anything happen at school?"

Realization hit hard. Betelgeuse did something to the sound. She didn't hear the snores inside and she didn't hear Barbara knocking outside. She would need to ask him to fix that.

"I'm fine. Honest," Lydia assured her. "I just didn't hear you. I was a little distracted." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Barbara."

As the woman smiled back, Lydia realized she couldn't hide this or lie to the Maitlands. They deserve to know the truth. Dad would probably give himself a heart attack due to stress if he found out and Lydia couldn't even guess how Delia would react. But Barbara and Adam were different. She knew she could explain it to them and she couldn't imagine keeping this a secret from them. It just didn't feel right hiding it from her ghostly godparents.

"Could you go get Adam and ask him to come here?" Lydia asked carefully.

She saw a flash of concern cross Barbara's face at the words and tone. Lydia couldn't help that. Reassuring and calming down the Maitlands would be huge part of the upcoming conversation. This was too important to ignore.

"Sure," said Barbara.

She quietly stepped out of the room before Lydia could change her mind. The girl sat on the edge of her bed as she waited, turning over the various things she could say in her mind. She needed to do this right.

The door opened again and she watched the ghostly godparents enter hesitantly. Judging by the way Adam looked at her uneasily, Barbara shared her concerns that something was wrong. Lydia tried to reassure them with a smile.

"Could you close the door, please? I need to tell you something."

Neither of them spoke, but there seemed to be a lot of meaning embedded in the look they exchanged. Lydia briefly wondered if married couples took long to develop the silent language of significant looks. Did it happen right after the wedding or did it take time?

"You know you can tell us anything, Lydia," said Adam.

Lydia nodded and said, "I know. And I don't want to hide things from you." She bit her bottom lip briefly as she tried one last time to organize her thoughts into something that might work. "First, you need to know that I'm fine. I'm fine, you're fine, and Dad and Delia are fine. Nothing bad happened. So there is no reason to get upset, okay?"

As she suspected, it did little to reassure them. If anything, her words put them more on edge. Lydia had no choice but to charge ahead anyway.

"While you guys were visiting your caseworker a couple of days ago, I had a visitor," she said slowly. Cringing a little in anticipation of their reactions, she added, "In my mirror."

"What? How? Who?" asked Barbara.

"Don't freak out," she said, "but it was _him_. The ghost from before. The one none of us want to talk about. The one you sent the sandworm after. He was in my mirror a couple of days ago."

Just as she suspected, they did not react well to the news of Betelgeuse's return. Their expressions morphed into looks of shock, fear, and anger at the mention of him. They followed that up with some rather loud shouting about he wasn't supposed to bother them anymore, how dare he come back, how could he even think of going near her again, that they would go straight to Juno and tell her exactly what was happening, asking if he tried to harm Lydia, and a lot of frustrated ranting about the poltergeist in general. Maybe it was a good thing the walls were still soundproof. Even Delia in full artist mode would've responded to the noise otherwise.

"Please calm down," Lydia said, her voice cutting through the shouts. And unlike in the past when faced with adults in a heated discussion, the Maitlands listened and fell silent. She continued, "You don't have to tell Juno. I don't _want_ you to do that. Please. Nothing happened. I handled everything."

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her and thankfully not noticing the dirt and grime on it, Barbara asked gently, "I think you better tell us what happened, Lydia. What did he do when he showed up in your mirror?"

"We yelled at each other. A lot," she admitted. "And we figured out a few misunderstandings. He didn't realize my age when we made our deal that night. He thought I was older. When he found out the truth, he looked upset about what almost happened. He looked like he really regretted what he did."

" _Him?_ " asked Adam, disbelief clear in his voice.

It wasn't disbelief in her or whether she was speaking the truth. It wasn't like when she tried to convince Delia that the house was haunted. He believed in her. Adam just couldn't believe in the idea of Betelgeuse feeling guilty.

Lydia could understand that. She was the same way a week ago. They only saw the surface, the conman bio-exorcist. They never got the chance to see more. There wasn't enough time before. Of course, calling him back so they could try getting to know him better wasn't the best idea at the moment. It would probably be easier and safer for everyone if she handled this part on her own.

"He isn't perfect, but he isn't a complete monster either. He kept his word when I asked him to save you that night. And when he found out my age, he said the deal was off and I didn't owe him anything. He's still a weird and disgusting guy who really needs to learn about boundaries, but he isn't evil. He's not that plain and simple."

"He's a con artist," reminded Barbara gently, wrapping a cool arm around the girl. "He's very good at tricking and manipulating people to do and think what he wants. He's tricked us before."

"It's a lot harder to be tricked when you're prepared for it. He's already showed his cards and I know what to watch for with him." Lydia shrugged a little and said, "I'm a pretty good judge of character, at least when I pay attention. For the most part, he played things straight with me when he showed up in the mirror." She paused briefly before adding, "So I let him out."

"What?" yelped Adam. "Why?"

"Sweetie, that was so dangerous," added Barbara, pulling her close in a hug. "Why would you risk it?"

"Because even if he let me out of the deal, we still owe him for saving you," Lydia said. "And because everyone deserves a second chance. I've been giving Dad and Delia one recently. It wouldn't be fair to deny him the same thing." Rubbing her arm briefly, she said, "I let him out. It felt like the right thing to do."

Dragging a hand through his hair, Adam said, "We _really_ should tell Juno."

"He didn't hurt anyone when I let him out this last time," Lydia said. "And he kept his mischief to a minimum. Telling Juno that I let him out won't do anything except cause problems."

"Lydia," said Barbara suspiciously. "Exactly _how_ long did you say he was free?"

"Two days," she admitted, not meeting their gaze. "I put him back not that long ago."

She heard the twin sighs from her ghostly godparents. They were worried. Worried and frustrated they weren't able to protect her from the strange and womanizing poltergeist. Their emotions were practically tangible things; Lydia could feel them coating the room like her purple wallpaper and painted wooden panels. She understood the reactions. But she didn't need to be saved this time.

" _Lydia_ ," said Barbara.

"You trust me," she said. "Right? You trust my judgment. You always believe in me. Please trust me now. You don't need to worry about me. You don't need to tell Juno about him. I can handle Beej—"

A cool hand instantly covered her mouth mid-word, interrupting and muffling the name enough to make it sound like something different. Lydia felt herself blush at her near slip-up. She _knew_ better than to use his name casually. Though she did like how the shortened and slightly slurred form of the word sounded…

When Barbara pulled her hand away, Lydia continued more carefully, "I can handle him. He hasn't tried any funny business and he's actually pretty good company when he's not trying to scare my family into an early grave. And if anything goes wrong, we all know how to send him back to the Netherworld. So please trust me and don't tell Juno about him visiting me."

"This isn't a onetime thing, is it?" asked Barbara quietly, slumping slightly and holding her head in her hands. "You plan to see him again sometime, don't you?"

"Maybe."

That was as close to a lie as Lydia dared. She was almost positive she would be inviting him back again. And it would probably be fairly soon. But the possibility existed that she _could_ get hit by a truck on the way to school and get killed before she could call him again, so there was a slim chance she wouldn't see him again.

Adam and Barbara exchanged glances. Once again, the looks seemed to hold quite a bit of meaning. The married ghosts engaged in a silent conversation composed entirely of important expressions. Lydia waited patiently to find out what conclusion they reached.

Straightening his glasses slightly, Adam said, "We trust you, Lydia. Never doubt that for a moment. We know you're a smart, kind, and wonderful girl. We trust you and your judgment."

"It's _him_ that we're having trouble with," said Barbara. After a pause that lasted long enough for Lydia to start to worry, she said, "But if you really don't want us to tell Juno, we can wait a little while. It's not like our next appointment is soon anyway."

She tried not to make the sigh of relief too obvious, but Lydia certainly felt thankful that part of the conversation was over. At least she and Betelgeuse weren't going to have the afterlife bureaucracy after their heads. That would save them a lot of complications.

Now came the really hard part of the conversation.

"Thanks. I really appreciate you keeping this from Juno," she said slowly. Biting her bottom lip briefly, she continued, "So, is there any chance you'll also keep this a secret from Dad and Delia too?"

"Lydia, you can't be serious," said Barbara, standing up abruptly. "We can't do that."

"Sure you can. Keeping him a secret from them would be easy."

"That's not what I meant."

Adam added, "They need to know. Keeping this a secret from Juno is one thing, but this is completely different."

"Why? Why should we tell them that he came back? He didn't cause any harm this time, so why should we get Dad and Delia all worked up?" Lydia asked.

Running a hand through his hair, Adam said, "They need to know. They deserve to know."

"They wouldn't listen. Not completely," she said. "They would just hear that he showed back up and they would freak out. Even if all of us told Dad and Delia that he isn't as bad as he seems and that he's sorry about the almost-wedding, they won't listen to that part. It'll be like the photos of you two in the sheets all over again."

"Lydia, you know they aren't that bad anymore," reminded Barbara. "You know they've been trying to be better than before. You've seen the difference."

Shaking her head in frustration, Lydia said, "Okay, they're getting better. But it'll still be a mess. It would be so much easier if we don't tell them."

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Barbara wrapped an arm around the girl. Adam joined them on the bed, leaving Lydia in the middle. The chill of her ghostly godparents felt nice and relaxing. The sensation of ghost arms wrapped around her was soothing as she tried to figure a way to get through her frustration.

"I don't want to tell them," she muttered darkly. "They don't need to know. It'll ruin everything."

"Lydia," said Barbara softly, stroking her hair, "you know we love you like you were our own daughter. Never doubt that for a moment. But, no matter how much we love you, we're _not_ your parents. Charles and Delia are."

"She's a step-parent," she grumbled rebelliously, glaring at the floor.

"A step-parent is still a parent," said Barbara. "They're your parents. And that means they deserve to know what's going on in your life."

"Especially when it comes to creepy ghosts who tried to marry you showing back up," added Adam.

"You can't shut them out of your life, Lydia. You can't try to make a connection with them when it suits you and ignore them the rest of the time. They're your family. They deserve to know when something important in your life happens."

Sometimes Barbara made far too much sense. It made it very difficult to argue with the dead woman. And even Adam had his moments. Lydia knew she should succumb to their reasonable arguments. She should probably tell Dad and Delia about Betelgeuse. After all, she already told Barbara and Adam about him.

But while it felt wrong to keep secrets from the ghosts, it felt equally wrong to tell Dad and Delia. They would probably do something crazy if they knew. And one of them might even try to provoke Betelgeuse somehow if they figured out he was back in the area. Dad would still be upset about the snake thing and Delia might decide to go back to her "don't let anyone walk all over you" mindset she first tried to use against the Maitlands when they refused to do party tricks. Lydia could just feel that telling Dad and Delia would make things very messy.

Figuring out a new strategy to convince her ghostly pseudo-parents that keeping his reappearance a secret was for the best, however, was proving to be difficult. Simply asking them to trust her wasn't enough. She needed a legitimate reason why Dad and Delia shouldn't know.

"Please, don't tell them," Lydia said. "Dad is always so stressed out; he'll probably give himself a heart-attack if he thinks that ghost is back. And Delia… I don't know what she'd do. Probably summon him so she can use him as model for her next sculpture in her collection. Can you imagine what that would cause?"

Judging by the rather uncomfortable looks the Maitlands exchanged, they _could_ imagine what chaos would be unleashed if Betelgeuse was summoned to serve as that woman's muse. Someone would end up leaving that encounter completely insane and violent. And Lydia honestly couldn't be certain if it would be the ghost or her step-mother who would come out of it in the worse condition.

"Look, I promise that if it becomes really important, I'll tell them," she continued. "But why cause trouble for them if it isn't a big deal? He showed up, we talked, we managed some kind of truce, and he's gone a couple days later. It isn't really worth worrying them over nothing. There's no reason to tell Dad and Delia."

"You told us," reminded Adam.

"But you're _you_ ," she said. "That's different."

Once again, the couple exchanged looks. Lydia couldn't really translate what their silent conversation might mean. But after a few moments, they nodded and turned back to the girl beside them.

"The _moment_ this becomes an issue, you're telling your parents," said Barbara firmly. "And if he tries anything inappropriate, banish him and tell us immediately."

"Deal," she said quickly before they could change their minds.

The two ghosts then wrapped her in a tight hug. They were worried about her. They trusted her, but they still worried. Lydia could live with that.

"Please be careful," said Adam quietly.

Breaking off the hug, Lydia said, "I will."

Nodding slightly, Barbara stood up and said, "All right. We'll meet you downstairs in a couple of minutes. You're not getting out of studying for that test. Not to mention any homework you have for this evening."

Glancing back at her a couple of times uneasily, the Maitlands stepped out of her room and closed the door. Lydia instantly flopped back on her bed and sighed in relief.

That solved at least a few difficult problems. Now all she had to do was change out of her school uniform for something more comfortable. And find a new hiding spot for her journal. She had a feeling he would be poking around in it again the next time she let him out.


	9. Movie Night

She'd survived. After all the challenges thrown at her and how they tried to pull her down, she endured it all and made it out with her sanity intact. She made it through unspeakable experiences that continued to plague her. She survived and now she was free.

"Thank goodness for the weekend," muttered Lydia as she and the crowd of other girls stampeded out of the school, hurrying to grab her bike through the chaos.

She didn't linger. Claire and her cronies hadn't bothered Lydia since their snake encounter, but it didn't hurt be cautious. Besides, she had plans. She'd even told her parents and the Maitlands about her plans and they wouldn't expect her until late. Well, she told them _most_ of her plan. Lydia just left out one single detail.

Lydia pedaled her way towards the town cemetery. She knew she wouldn't be bothered there. Other than during funerals and the various memorial days where people wander around the grounds while leaving flowers, no one really went to cemeteries. They didn't like the reminders of their mortality. They found the places to be creepy and the grounds filled with the dead to be unsettling.

Lydia thought they were relaxing. Quiet, peaceful, and beautiful, she enjoyed wandering among the tombstones and looking at the varying designs carved through the years. There was an art to the craft that no one really paid attention to. Besides, there was no reason to be scared of graveyards. All those barely-acknowledged fears of disturbing the dead and such were unnecessary. Ghosts tended to haunt their homes, their places of business, the location they died, or other meaningful spots from their previous lives; they were less likely to wander a graveyard than they were anywhere else in the world.

But she knew it would be the perfect place to meet a ghost as long as she invited him there. He certainly spent enough time in the model version of the cemetery. Maybe he found graveyards comforting too.

Lydia paused briefly by Barbara and Adam's graves. She visited the site occasionally out of some kind of morbid curiosity. The first time she debated leaving flowers. But then she realized that the idea was crazy when she could simply take the flowers directly to the Maitlands instead. That didn't stop her from visiting their graves when she came through.

Eventually she reached the large, half-dead tree on the hill that overlooked a big chunk of the graveyard. Lydia propped her bike against it and settled comfortably on the grass. She leaned back against the rough bark and stared out at the rest of the cemetery. Then, once she felt calm and relaxed, Lydia closed her eyes and unleashed chaos.

"Betelgeuse. Betelgeuse," she said quietly. "Betelgeuse."

She heard only silence for a moment. Then someone settled down on the grass next to her, equally unconcerned about the possibility of stains from sitting on the ground. He didn't immediately say a word, so she assumed he was distracted by the unique meeting place.

"Sorry."

"For what? Kicking me out of your room before someone else could make a fuss and do it themselves?" asked Betelgeuse. "That's not even close to the rudest way someone got rid of me. And you'd already left me out the promised couple days. So no hard feelings, Babes."

"Not just that," she admitted. "I told Barbara and Adam about you."

There was a momentary pause and then he asked, "So when should I expect June-bug to show up to flay me?"

"They promised not to tell Juno as long as you don't try anything inappropriate with me." Lydia shrugged and said, "They're protective of me and suspicious of you, but they trust me. They'll keep quiet. You're safe."

She opened her eyes and glanced towards him. The expression on the poltergeist's face was unreadable. Maybe he was insulted the Maitlands still thought he'd try something with her. Maybe he was amused she felt the urge to reassure him. Maybe he was surprised. Maybe he was quietly pleased. Maybe it was a combination of all of them. She just wasn't sure.

"Do you want to watch a movie with me?" she asked, moving on to the reason she summoned him.

He blinked in surprise, caught off-balance by her question. Lydia noticed she'd managed to off-balance him a lot since he appeared in her mirror. She kept surprising him or confusing him, even when he tried to hide it. Most of it seemed to be when she did something nice or half-decent towards him. It was like he didn't know how to respond to that or, a few times, like he was half-expect there to be a catch. This time there was confusion, surprise, and a hint of renewed distrust at the offer.

Then the look was gone and hidden by a more playful and teasing expression. He smirked at her as if he'd heard an amusing joke. Then he reached over and ruffled her hair messily.

"Asking me on a date? Bit of a step backwards, Lyds. And I don't think any of your parents would approve," he said dryly. "Nice sense of humor, though."

Lydia kept a look of realization from appearing on her face. He was taking the offer the wrong way. Yes, people go together on dates to the movies. But that wasn't the only time people went together. But someone like Betelgeuse would probably associate watching movies with someone as a date. It didn't seem like he had a lot of friends to hang out with, after all. And that would leave him as a suspicious guy.

So her inviting him to the movies might be seen as either her trying to drag up the whole almost-wedding fiasco by reminding him of how he mistakenly took her for an adult or trying to give the Maitlands a viable excuse to separate them. Of course he wouldn't be happy about either option. It would be a sign she was trying to hurt him emotionally; physically hurting him would be beyond her capabilities. And of course he would try to shrug it off as a joke. Who would want to discuss the serious topic of someone trying to break the fragile trust they were working on?

He was getting a little easier to read. She still wasn't perfect at picking out his thought process, but Lydia knew she was getting better at it. And she knew she needed to handle this just right. This was their first real hurdle since their cautious truce was started. Who would have guessed a small offer could be so problematic? But a few days of knowing each other properly couldn't outweigh six hundred years of experience.

Using her hands to flatten her hair back down, she said casually, "It's not a joke and not a date. People watch movies sometimes. Look, the local theater shows one classic horror movie a week starting in September all the away until their marathon on Halloween. And the place is old, so it has a balcony for one of the older screens. I thought it might be fun. Unless you have something better to do.

Once again, his expression shifted slightly for a moment. She didn't see that sliver of distrust this time. Instead, she spotted a hint of surprise and mild pleasure of the idea. He hid it behind a look of bored casualness, but Lydia definitely recognized the look before it vanished.

"The movie that's playing is 'The Exorcist.' I remember Barbara and Adam mentioning that you've seen it a lot, so I'm not sure if you want to watch it again," she said, making it easier for him to accept or deny the offer with no consequences.

There was no hesitation or flicker of concealed emotion this time. He smiled and cackled loudly, prompting her to grin in return. She apparently reassured him the initiation was innocent and she was still worth trusting. Lydia was glad that she managed to sort that out.

The poltergeist climbed to his feet and quickly pulled her up. As soon as they were both standing, Betelgeuse dusted off his sleeves.

"I suppose I could watch it with you. It's one of my favorites. So when does the movie start?"

"A little after seven. We've got a couple hours. I'm going to grab something to eat and pick up a couple things. If you want to do anything yourself, I can meet you at the theater at 6:50. That'll give us some time to get a good seat."

He rolled his neck briefly, making it crack in a way that sounded like the bones were breaking, and said, "Sounds like a plan, Lyds. It'll be nice to stretch my legs a bit. See if I can scare up anything interesting to do."

"I'd tell you to stay out of trouble, but I doubt you'd listen," she said dryly.

"What would be the fun in that?"

Shaking her head ruefully and trying not to think of what trouble he might find in a couple of hours, Lydia grabbed her bike. She would probably get a sandwich in town. They made some pretty good food at the small diner and it made more sense than heading all the way home only to head back down a little later. And she could look in the bookstore later. The books the librarian suggested before about constellations and astronomy turned out to be pretty interesting.

* * *

So once again Lydia managed to surprise him, though this time was a bit different. The invitation to watch a movie threw him briefly. He'd been around when they invented film, both for still photographs and moving pictures. And the poltergeist quickly discovered the advantages of sitting in a darkened room with someone. So he tended to watch movies either alone or with a willing woman who would focus more on him than the film.

He knew theoretically people did go to the movies outside of dates. It just didn't automatically occur to him until Lydia clarified. In hindsight, Betelgeuse knew it was insane to think Lydia was trying to suggest anything other than a casual meeting like the invitation to walk to school together. She was being friendly, not trying to mess with him somehow. Anything else didn't really make sense. He just needed to adjust his thinking a little. He needed to adjust a lot in regards to his girl.

While Lydia went to grab food, Betelgeuse headed across town for something more fun. Resizing an - window into a proper entrance was growing rather familiar. Her room looked the same as before, but her journal wasn't in her drawer anymore. The fact she was making this more of a challenge made him smirk.

A little poking around revealed that she hid it under her mattress. Maybe not the best hiding place, but not the worst. At least she was trying to mix things up a little. Some people never bothered.

He ignored the bed this time and leaned against her desk. Once he felt relatively comfortable, Betelgeuse turned to the most recent entry.

_Talked to Barbara and Adam finally about Betelgeuse showing up in my mirror a little while ago. As I predicted, they weren't exactly happy about him being around. Can't completely blame them for the reaction. They wanted to charge straight to Juno and tell her. It took a little while to talk them down._

_After convincing them not to tell their caseworker, I had to explain that I honestly think he's sorry about the almost wedding. That was a little trickier, but I did it. I considered calling him up to help support my story about him not actually knowing my age at the time, but I knew it would probably make things worse and more complicated._

_They still weren't happy about him, but they trust my judgment to an extent. Which is part of the reason they're awesome ghost godparents as far as I'm concerned. Talking them into not telling Dad or Delia wasn't quite as tough. I just pointed out that neither of them would react well to the news and Dad would probably give himself a heart attack out of stress. Of course, Delia might just try to turn him into her new muse, which would be scary to imagine in an entirely different way than Betelgeuse seems to prefer._

_But anyway, they promised to not tell anyone as long as I promised to tell them the moment he tried to do anything inappropriate (after banishing him if possible). Then they gave me a hug and asked me to be careful._

_I'll probably still try to keep him out of the house as much as possible. It wouldn't be good if he managed to freak all of them out with his usual behavior before I have a chance to make sure that my theory is right._

Basically everything she wrote lined up with what Lydia already mentioned. Either she expected him to snoop and kept anything secret out of the journal or there was nothing else interesting for her to write. He figured the latter was more likely. And as before, Betelgeuse couldn't resist the urge to add a little something to let her know her hiding place needed work.

_**I have no interest in getting shanghaied by your step-mom to be her muse. Granted, she wasn't half-bad looking, though the brunette in the attic is pretty decent in the flower dress too…** _

Turning back a page, he noticed that he'd missed an addition to an entry. Lydia finally wrote a response to his comment about their shouting match through the mirror and so on.

_I definitely think that privacy discussion should be addressed soon. Right after I hit him with a pillow while he's snoring on my bed._

That made him smirk. Lydia seemed so optimistic about the idea that he would stop reading her journal. By this point, it was too much fun to stop. But he'd already figured out his girl was growing used to it. Before long, she'd enjoy it as much as him.

He didn't write anything else though. He just slipped her journal back where he found it and left her room, reshaping her window back as he went.

He had a movie to watch.

* * *

Lydia smoothed her black skirt again, trying to reduce the numerous wrinkles that formed after spending a day buried at the bottom of her backpack. She'd brought something to change into so she wouldn't be wearing her school uniform all evening, but there was a limit to how good she could look after changing in a diner's restroom. Still, she felt more comfortable in her more usual clothes. Maybe a little chilly as the evening grew later, but the fabrics were more pleasant.

So with dinner eaten, a new book purchased from the store, and wearing more comfortable clothes, Lydia tied her bike up in front of the movie theater. There was already a line waiting to purchase tickets, but she knew most of them would be going to the newer movies in the other two theaters. Only a few would be watching the horror movie on the older screen. So she wasn't worried about them selling out of tickets for "The Exorcist." And even if they were supposed to check ages, no one ever asked if she was old enough for a PG-13 or R rated movie. They almost never bothered. So she wasn't worried about some concerned theater owner turning her away from the film because it was "too scary for a twelve-year-old girl by herself."

Movie tickets were far cheaper in Winter River than New York City. And since no one would notice the poltergeist in the audience, she only needed to buy one. As long as she found them a spot away from everyone else, maybe he wouldn't be tempted to mess with everyone in the audience during the film. With a little luck, they would never know the ghost was around.

"So you going to grab some snacks, Babes?" whispered a gravelly voice in her ear.

Lydia tried not to jump to much, but the abrupt arrival of the poltergeist right behind her startled the girl. When she spun around, she saw Betelgeuse smirking at his small victory. She found herself resisting the urge to swing her backpack at his smug face. It would probably draw too much attention and wouldn't do any good in the long-run.

"Not unless you want some gummy worms or something," she said. "I just ate not too long ago, remember?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather go for the real thing instead or the candy version."

Rolling her eyes briefly, Lydia said, "Figures. Well, the movie is about to start and we need to find our seats. Come on, Beej."

He paused and raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Lydia ducked her head briefly in embarrassment. It just slipped out. But ever since she first said the half-muffled and shortened form of the name when Barbara silenced her, Lydia liked it. She really liked how it sounded. She just didn't plan on trying it with him yet.

Too late now. Time to find out what he thought.

"Better or worse than 'Spooky'?" she asked.

"Better," said Betelgeuse, shifting from contemplative to pleased. "Definitely better, Lyds. I think you should stick with that one."

"Good. I'm glad you like it. Otherwise I planned to call you 'Bug-guy' or something."

Laughing briefly, he said, "Then I guess we were lucky to avoid that fate." Gesturing towards the door, he added, "So lead the way, Babes. It's showtime."

* * *

He'd already seen the movie. A _lot_. He had the entire thing memorized. So while he cackled at his favorite parts and considered the idea of dumping slime over the balcony onto the audience below when they got to the pea soup scene, Betelgeuse mostly kept an eye on Lydia.

His girl clearly loved the movie as much as he did, grinning almost the entire time. She would jerk at the jump-scares, but there was a difference between being startled and afraid. She mouthed along with the words to certain scenes and rolled her eyes at others. Every second was clearly enjoyed by Lydia.

He already knew the kid was hard to scare, so he shouldn't be surprised she didn't cringe and shriek throughout the film. But it was interesting that she seemed amused by some of the same parts that left him in stitches. And when he pointed out the more unbelievable parts about the whole possession process on the screen, she'd nod and mutter about what she read in the Handbook. From their spot in the balcony in the older theater, the two of them chuckled their way through a movie that made everyone scream and gasp.

It took him most of the film to realize he was really having fun with the kid. He was honestly having a lot of fun just watching a movie with his girl. The simplicity was what surprised him. He could barely remember the last time he had this much fun with someone that didn't involve a bed, a con, or humiliating someone completely. By the time the film ended, Betelgeuse decided he rather liked the entire experience and planned to do it again with his girl. She mentioned more classic horror movies showing each week and a marathon on Halloween, right? That might be worth remembering.

Hands buried in his pockets, he followed Lydia back down the stairs to the lobby and out the front door. His girl wove through the exiting crowd quite nimbly before reclaiming her bike. She didn't immediately climb on. Once again, she chose to push it along the sidewalk.

Darkness wasn't really an issue for him, but he could still notice it. Night fell hours ago and the streetlamps stood far apart, so most of the current light came from the windows of the neighboring buildings and partial moonlight. Betelgeuse didn't even consider letting her head home alone while he visited the bar for drunken women. Winter River might be relatively small, but that didn't mean it was completely safe. Not all predators that hunted in the night ran on four legs and attack with fangs. Letting his girl make the trip back to her house on the hill alone and in the dark? Not going to happen.

"That constellation over there?" she said, abruptly pointing towards a clump of stars. "That's Orion the Hunter. He appears in Greek myths. He doesn't have the best stories, but he doesn't have the worst ones either."

It didn't take a genius to realize why Lydia was talking about that particular patch of stars. He could figure out why she would be interested. She probably did research on it.

"I've heard about it. I bet you like the red star best though. Right, Lyds?"

Her mouth twitching briefly, she said, "I'm not sure. I suppose that particular star _is_ growing on me a little, but I'm not certain it is my favorite."

Betelgeuse clutched his chest dramatically and said, "Oh, you _wound_ me. You mortally wound me, Lyds."

"I would have thought it was a little late to 'mortally' wound a ghost," she said with a chuckle.

He couldn't help chuckling a little in return. Betelgeuse then noticed that she was trying to suppress a shiver. He didn't feel temperature, but she wasn't dead. Lydia was alive with a pulse, body heat, and vulnerability to the weather. The chill of an autumn evening in Connecticut clearly affected his girl. Her black skirt and blouse combo didn't provide much protection against the cold.

"Chilly, Lyds?" he asked as she rubbed one arm slightly.

"A little."

"It'll only get worse when winter gets here."

"I know. I have a few thicker coats for when it gets _real_ cold. I just don't have any jackets for this weather that I like," she said.

When she shivered again, Betelgeuse felt conflicted on how to react. If she was a date, he would respond by wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He remembered doing it centuries ago when he was alive. Any dead women feigning a chill to encourage intimacy received similar treatment. But this wasn't a date and getting close to a cool ghost wouldn't help Lydia warm up. He could toss her his jacket or create something warmer to wear, but that seemed wrong. It would be too… obviously nice. Going against centuries of behavior that strongly and tossing out every piece of his reputation just didn't feel right.

He finally settled on a more subtle solution. With a small flick of power, Betelgeuse diverted the wind from hitting his girl directly. Then he slowly started raising the temperature of the air around her. It took a little concentration, but he could manage.

"If you don't have a jacket that works, why don't you get one?" said Betelgeuse casually. "That's got to be better than frostbite."

"I've looked. I can't find one I like."

Betelgeuse said, "If they don't sell a jacket that works for you, do what everyone did before the Industrial Revolution. Make one. Or just deal with the ones you don't like. Fashion is no reason to freeze to death. You're smarter than that."

She looked mildly thoughtful, but didn't say a word. She just kept walking beside her bike as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. As they reached the bridge, Betelgeuse noticed the goose-bumps on her arms had vanished and she'd relaxed. She was definitely warming up now. Lydia glanced towards him with a knowing and grateful expression.

"Thanks. That feels a lot better, Beej."

With an innocent expression, he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever you say."


	10. Birthday

"What's the Netherworld like?" asked Lydia.

Betelgeuse smirked at her. She never gave up. Once his girl found something that interested her, apparently nothing could distract her for long. Of course, since _he_ also seemed to interest her, he felt rather all right with that trait.

"You've asked that before, Lyds," he said. "Remember?"

"So? I doubt you've told me everything."

Leaning back, he nodded lazily. Bringing Lydia up on the roof involved dodging the attention of her parents and ghosts, flattening a section of the shingles so the angle wasn't as dangerously steep to sit on, floating her up from the window to his prepared perch on the roof, and warming the area around her to combat the chill of October, but it made her smile to sit up there staring at the stars that shone out of the darkness. And even if he would never figure out _why_ , he liked seeing Lydia smile. So a little power to make sure she didn't freeze or fall and break her neck didn't even faze him.

"All right, Babes. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

That answer made Betelgeuse grin. He chuckled and twirled his unlit cigarette between his fingers, her hungry look for knowledge making her seem more alive and cheerful than he could have ever imagined when they first met. Lydia certainly knew what she wanted and would never stop looking.

"Let's see," he said casually. 'What would be the most interesting stuff about the place?"

Popping the cigarette in his mouth finally, he flicked his thumb like a lighter and summoned a small flame. One he lit the cigarette, he cut off the power to extinguish his thumb. When he blew out a smoke ring that looked more like a coiled snake, he saw Lydia roll her eyes.

Betelgeuse described carefully, "Maps don't really work for the Netherworld. Geography, geometry, physics, and all those other topics they teach you at your school just don't really work the same. Things can overlap each other, occupying the same space from different angles. Things can be bigger on the inside than the outside. Almost nothing has ninety degree angles or real straight lines. If it looks straight, it is probably an optical illusion. There are lots more curves, coils and impossible angles. Put all that together and there's no possible way to sketch it out on a flat sheet of paper. And trying to think about it and figure out how it fits together will probably make your brain melt out your ears."

That visual image made her chuckle a little and he smirked in return. He blew a little more smoke before running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly, I really don't know what to tell you. That place isn't that great. And when you're stuck there with no way out, it feels pretty small and you get bored fast."

"And you _hate_ boredom," said Lydia. "So what have you been up to? You keep vanishing. Avoiding boredom out here?"

He gave a short nod. She'd left him out for a couple weeks and he took full advantage of it. Betelgeuse spread around a lot of business cards, charmed a couple of drunk women desperate for a good time, and explored some of the neighboring towns. He enjoyed his freedom and refused to squander it completely. But he made certain to wander back to Winter River every couple of days or so. And Betelgeuse made sure to show up for the movie nights, watching "Psycho" and "The Omen" with his girl when they played them on the big screen.

"Something like that, Babes. Mostly spreading my name around and enjoying myself," he said.

"Enjoying yourself, huh? Alone or with company?" asked Lydia, raising an eyebrow.

Chuckling lightly, he said, "You know me so well. Yeah, I found a few breathing ladies who don't notice a missing pulse. The living can be so oblivious, Lyds. Especially when drunk. A guy could get used to this."

Lydia started to roll her eyes again, but broke into a brief coughing fit halfway through. Betelgeuse watched carefully so she didn't cough herself off the roof, though it didn't seem bad enough for that to be an issue. Honestly, it wasn't something he generally worried about for himself anymore. Breathing wasn't a necessity for the dead like it was for the living. It was more of a habit and useful for talking.

"Sorry," she said when the coughing died down. "Can you put out the cigarette? The smoke keeps going in my face and it's bugging me."

Twisting it between his fingers, he said, "It isn't bad for your health like normal ones. It won't hurt the living."

"Doesn't mean I want to keep breathing it," she muttered.

She would've never (metaphorically) survived as Juno's assistant. A little flick of power to extinguish the cigarette and Betelgeuse tucked it back in his pocket for later. It was better than having her hack up her lungs all night.

"So anything good coming up? Maybe another decent movie or maybe those girls at your school need another scare?"

Shrugging a little, Lydia said, "Well, Tuesday is my birthday. Barbara is baking a cake and Delia is talking about making a fancy dinner for the occasion, so I'll be busy that day. But any other day, I'm free to do whatever you want. And the movie on Friday is 'Poltergeist.' I'm sure you'll love talking about what a bunch of amateurs they are."

"Wait, your birthday? So you're turning…"

"Thirteen," she said. "A few days and I'll officially be a teenager."

The child was growing up. His girl was getting older, but still a child. She was just getting into that muddled area between childhood and being an adult, where it was even harder to guess ages even for the living. She was reaching the point where boys and men started noticing. Lydia would need someone to keep an eye out and make sure she enjoyed the rest of her childhood without some other creep going after her. _One_ underaged proposal by an older guy was enough.

Of course, the fact she was getting older meant something else too. Betelguese had picked up enough over the centuries to know that the living tended to make a big deal over birthdays now. He couldn't even remember when his birthday might have once been, but Lydia probably still thought birthdays were important. She mentioned it casually, but she probably did care about marking the passage of time. She was young and the novelty of surviving another year hadn't worn off. They liked celebrating birthdays with gifts. Gifts of what they wanted most.

Betelgeuse tucked an idea away for later. It would take time to arrange and make sure his girl would be fine. He didn't want her to get hurt by something intended to make Lydia smile. And he was almost certain it would bend some rules or more likely shatter them. But it would be fun. He would get to make his girl happy and do something that would infuriate Juno if she ever found out. What could be more amusing than that?

"Thirteen," he muttered. "I bet Chuck loves that. His baby girl growing up and everything."

"He lives in a continuous state of stress, so this doesn't really change much. Though Delia's occasional story about what she did as a teenager does make his eye twitch sometimes."

"Sounds fun. You still sure you want me to leave them alone? Messing with those two some more could be amusing. Maybe just a little?"

"No, Beej. One poltergeist haunting is enough. Another encounter with you would probably be too much for them to handle."

Chuckling in agreement, he said, "Good thing you don't take after them. Otherwise you would be dull and wouldn't get along with me as well as you do."

She was silent for a moment, shifting in place. The girl stared up at the stars with a distant expression while rubbing her arms absently. She wasn't cold. He'd made certain the weather wouldn't affect her. This was something else.

"I always took after Mom more than I did Dad," she said quietly. "We look a lot alike and most people said we acted like each other sometimes. She wasn't as high-strung as Dad and was pretty fun. She was smart, patient, and nice. And I think she might have seen ghosts too." Lydia glanced towards him briefly and added, "I think she could have handled you too."

There was that sensitive topic again. Betelgeuse remembered how the only way that spiteful blonde managed to bother his Lydia was by bringing up her mother. It _hurt_ her. He refused to pry then. But she was the one bringing it up this time.

Since Lydia was the one broaching the subject, how much should he poke at it? Self-control wasn't his specialty. And unlike before, he felt curious. He wanted to keep learning more about his girl and that included wondering about her missing mother situation. It was a missing puzzle piece to the jigsaw of his girl.

But he also didn't want to hurt Lydia. The very idea of it made the pit of his stomach squirm like it was filled with writhing maggots. And not even the tasty kind. He still didn't understand where these impulses were coming from, but they weren't going away. So he wasn't sure how far he could push.

Diving in and hoping for the best, he said, "Sounds like she was an interesting woman. Might have been nice to meet an older version of you. Though she probably would have kicked me out of the house for trying to make a deal with you."

A ghost of a smile briefly crossed her face, but there was plenty of buried loss behind it. Gone or dead? Abandonment or deceased? He could ask. She might even answer. But not tonight. He wouldn't pry further tonight. She needed a distraction and he could do with something more fun to think about. Things were getting too serious for his taste.

"Speaking of deals, did I tell you about when this weird guy named Howard Phillips Lovecraft managed to call me up?" he said. "It was around eighty years ago, give or take a few decades. He was a writer or wanted to be one. I don't remember the details. But he was looking for inspiration and doing research, which led to him summoning yours truly. He asked for a little help after he got past the shock of me appearing in front of him. He asked to be inspired."

She stared at him with an expression somewhere between surprise, horror, and amusement. One hand covered her mouth as Lydia struggled not to break out into giggles. That was better than her sadder look previously.

"You didn't."

"He seemed to have some real issues with seafood," he said with a grin.

That broke her willpower. Lydia started laughing hard, her whole body shaking with it. His girl actually started sliding towards the edge of the flattened section of the roof. Betelgeuse grabbed her shoulder to steady her and keep Lydia from falling. A tumble over the edge would break something important on her. Like her leg. Or her neck.

"You… You helped Lovecraft write his books?" she managed to ask between her laughter. "You're responsible?"

"Hey, he already had plenty of talent and creepy ideas. Not as interesting as that Poe guy that I heard about, but he wasn't a complete loser. I just gave him a few extra nightmares."

"You're terrible," she said, still chuckling.

Tilting his head with a proud expression plastered on his face, Betelgeuse said, "Ghost With The Most, Babes."

* * *

Lydia started writing a journal years ago when she was just starting to appreciate the wonders of the written word. She wrote sporadically, so she hadn't filled the thick pages completely yet. Days, weeks, or even months might pass between small entries that barely took a dozen words. Over time, she sketched on the cover and made her journal more personalized. She poured a lot of her personality and thoughts into the thing over the years. And when she moved to Winter River, her life became eventful enough to warrant longer and more frequent journal entries.

She pulled the book out from behind the radiator where she hid it. Recently, keeping a journal had become a bit more entertaining. She'd turned it into a bit of a scavenger hunt for the poltergeist, moving it all over the room to make it more of a challenge for him to find it. Betelgeuse's presence also made it more fun to reread her past entries.

_Talked to Barbara and Adam finally about Betelgeuse showing up in my mirror a little while ago. As I predicted, they weren't exactly happy about him being around. Can't completely blame them for the reaction. They wanted to charge straight to Juno and tell her. It took a little while to talk them down._

_After convincing them not to tell their caseworker, I had to explain that I honestly think he's sorry about the almost wedding. That was a little trickier, but I did it. I considered calling him up to help support my story about him not actually knowing my age at the time, but I knew it would probably make things worse and more complicated._

_They still weren't happy about him, but they trust my judgment to an extent. Which is part of the reason they're awesome ghost godparents as far as I'm concerned. Talking them into not telling Dad or Delia wasn't quite as tough. I just pointed out that neither of them would react well to the news and Dad would probably give himself a heart attack out of stress. Of course, Delia might just try to turn him into her new muse, which would be scary to imagine in an entirely different way than Betelgeuse seems to prefer._

_But anyway, they promised to not tell anyone as long as I promised to tell them the moment he tried to do anything inappropriate (after banishing him if possible). Then they gave me a hug and asked me to be careful._

_I'll probably still try to keep him out of the house as much as possible. It wouldn't be good if he managed to freak all of them out with his usual behavior before I have a chance to make sure that my theory is right._

_**I have no interest in getting shanghaied by your step-mom to be her muse. Granted, she wasn't half-bad looking, though the brunette in the attic is pretty decent in the flower dress too…** _

_Stop writing in my journal, Beej. And stop commenting on Delia and Barbara. That's my step-mom and sort-of godmother. Do you know how creepy that is for me?_

_**I can't help it that both of them are attractive, Babes.** _

_They're married. And stop writing in my journal._

_**I can be patient. And what theory are you talking about?** _

_Stop writing in my journal._

_**You keep responding, Lyds, so I got to keep it up. What theory?** _

_The one that you're not as bad as you seem._

… _ **You repeat that idea to anyone and I'll leave your bed on roof next time I visit. I have a reputation to maintain.**_

_Whatever you say, Beej._

Yeah, it was probably best to just accept that privacy was a thing of the past. But this was actually pretty funny.

Lydia smiled and turned to the next entry in her journal. This one was from a few days after the previous one. This one dealt with the start of their ongoing movie nights.

_Well, after some minor misunderstandings about what I was asking, Betelgeuse agreed to go to the movies with me. They play classic horror movies at the theater at this time of the year and I thought it would be fun._

_So we ended up watching "The Exorcist." Beej has probably seen it more times than I can count. But he spent most of the movie laughing and didn't mess with the rest of the audience. Which is a good sign. We didn't have popcorn since I ate dinner before the show, but it was a good evening. I think we both had fun._

_After the movie was over, we walked back towards home. And we sort of chatted. I pointed out the constellation Orion to him and he suggested I get a warmer jacket. He even mentioned that if I couldn't find one I like, I should make one. His comment about the Industrial Revolution and how casually he mentioned it really drives home exactly how old he is. Beej has been a ghost for a long time._

_A really interesting fact is how the chilly weather started feeling warmer on the way home. It happened almost like magic. Funny, huh?_

_**What can I say? The weather can be temperamental. And "The Exorcist" is one of my favorite movies. Lots of good ideas for haunting and hilarious stuff if you like a good comedy. We've got to do that again sometime, Lyds.** _

_They have another horror movie this week too. They're playing "Psycho."_

_**Perfect. I remember when that movie showed up in theaters the first time. It really messed with people. Though "The Shining" is more fun.** _

_They're saving that one for the Halloween marathon. But if you want to watch "Psycho," we can go. Alfred Hitchcock could definitely do suspenseful storytelling._

_**He wasn't bad for a guy with a pulse and no powers. So yeah, I wouldn't mind watching it with you. Just bring a jacket this time. The weather might not be as cooperative.** _

_I'll keep that in mind, Beej._

Lydia shook her head ruefully and closed her journal. If she didn't know better, she would call the poltergeist a mother hen over his worrying about the weather. A little cold wouldn't be the end of the world.

Movie night was certainly turning into a fun tradition. They both had pretty similar taste in films and sometimes they ended up with some pretty interesting conversations afterwards. Betelgeuse felt the movie would have been better if Norman Bates' mother was literally haunting him. Lydia did her best to explain why most people didn't consider Damian surviving the film to be a happy ending, though she was half-convince Betelgeuse was just messing with her with his "imagine the fun an Anti-Christ kid would cause" spiel. And then there was the debate they had on whether seeing something scary directly or only getting hints was more effective a making people freak out.

The only thing that left her unsatisfied was the knowledge it would soon end. Once the Halloween marathon ended, there would be no more classic horror movies for a year. She knew they would have to find something else to do then. It wasn't like they could watch movies at home. If Dad and Delia didn't notice, Barbara and Adam certainly would. And that would lead to an evening of awkwardness instead of laughing at people on screen who didn't have any common sense in an emergency situation. Basically, she and Betelgeuse would have to find something else to do once Halloween passed.

Of course, that all assumed that he wouldn't get bored of her and move on to someone or something more interesting. Quite some time would have passed by that point. And yet Lydia felt confident that even with his dislike of boredom, Betelgeuse would stay around. Whether because of his inexplicable obsession that neither of them could explain or because he actually enjoyed her company, he would stay. He would stick around and that meant she would need to figure out a new way to keep him entertained. Otherwise he might decide to start tormenting Claire and her cronies for fun.

Lydia briefly entertained the idea, imagining what the poltergeist might do. Then she rejected it. Not even Claire deserved Betelgeuse's full attention. And it wouldn't be fair to treat him as a weaponized ghostly haunting to turn loose on anyone who vexed her.

"Lydia," called Barbara, the no-longer-soundproofed walls letting her voice carry. "Dinner is about ready."

"Give me a minute," she called back.

Taking a moment to slip her journal under her pillow for later, Lydia headed downstairs towards the dining room table. Delia brought out her baked chicken while Dad carried a bowl of sautéed red potatoes. Adam finished setting the table just as Lydia arrived. She didn't see Barbara, but she was probably putting the finishing touches on the cake she'd planned.

"Happy birthday, Pumpkin," greeted her father. "How does it feel to be thirteen?"

"So far, a lot like being twelve. Though the fact they didn't give us homework today was pretty nice."

"Don't worry," Delia said, carrying in the dinner rolls. "You'll see the difference between being a child and being a teenager soon. Before you know it, you'll have dozens of boys following you around. I know that happened to me when I was not much older than you."

Charles grimaced at the picture that his wife was painting with her words. Lydia rolled her eyes instead. Leave it to Delia to turn this into something about herself, however inadvertently. She was _trying_ , but she still needed work. Not to mention the comment about dating. The woman was borderline delusional with that one.

"Considering the fact that girls and boys go to different schools on the opposite sides of the town, I don't think they'll be beating down the door anytime soon," she said.

"That never stopped me and Adam," remarked Barbara as she entered the dining room. "But that doesn't mean you should be in such a hurry. There's plenty of time to find someone."

With that particular piece of advice, everyone settled down in their seats. Technically, Barbara and Adam didn't _need_ to eat. They wouldn't starve and they didn't really feel hunger. But they liked to eat. They enjoyed food and some habits from being alive remained even now. So when there was a family dinner, the entire family participated. Living and dead.

"I'm surprised you didn't invite one of your friends from school to come over this evening. It _is_ your birthday dinner," said her father as he cut a piece of chicken.

Peering over the edge of his glasses, Adam said, "You _do_ remember most people won't see us."

"Oh… yes… That might be a little awkward to explain," he said sheepishly.

"And I don't have a lot of close friends to choose from," said Lydia, taking a bite of her potatoes.

Barbara might be the undisputed champion of baking in the household, but Delia wasn't useless in the kitchen. Her potatoes were succulent, her chicken was seasoned to perfection, and the dinner rolls were fluffy and warm. Any of her rich and eccentric friends would adore the menu. The only thing missing were the additional courses required for dinner parties.

"What about that friend of yours that you've been spending all your time with recently?" Delia asked. "The one you've been watching movies with every week?"

Lydia froze briefly in surprise. Delia noticed? Of all the times for the woman to gain observation skills, she chose _now_? Lydia did her best to adopt a neutral expression while Barbara and Adam exchanged uneasy looks. They could at least guess who the culprit might be. And while they promised to keep quiet, they weren't completely happy. But they could recognize that Lydia was on the edge of a minefield.

"That's different. We just hang out sometimes. And he's not exactly someone you want over for dinner," she said carefully.

" _He_? You've been going out with a boy?" said Delia with a bright smile, pouncing on the slip of the tongue like a tiger. "What's his name? What's he like?"

Correction. Lydia was trapped in the dead center of a minefield. Her dad and step-mother were too focused on the girl to notice the worried expressions on the resident ghosts. Not that Adam and Barbara would be much help navigating her way out. She was stuck. Dad and Delia were paying attention and taking an interest in her life, just like she always wanted. But this time, Lydia desperately wished that something would distract them away from her. How's that for irony?

"His name is Beej," Lydia said, trying to avoid lying as much as possible. "He likes horror movies, he's kind of funny, and he's pretty good about listening to me. He's also rude, can hold a grudge, and causes a lot of trouble wherever he goes."

"What's Beej short for?" her father asked, reaching for a dinner roll.

Forced into a corner and having to tell a slight lie, she said, "Benjamin. But it is better to call him 'Beej.' I think he prefers it to calling him by his actual name."

"So Lydia is dating a bad boy," said Delia with a pleased smile. "This is so exciting."

Barbara looked furious while Adam looked like he was choking on his glass of water. Lydia just felt like burying her face in her hands with a groan. If Delia had any clue who they were talking about, she would certainly change her tune. It wasn't like she cheered Lydia down the aisle when the poltergeist tried to marry the girl. But she didn't know. Dad and Delia didn't know the truth and everyone else just felt horrified by the implications.

"We're not dating. Honest. We just get along and like the same movies. Besides, he's too old for me to date anyway."

"An _older_ bad boy," cheered the woman. "How fascinating and mysterious. You're going to have so much fun going out with him."

Charles narrowed his eyes suspiciously and asked, "How old exactly are we talking, Pumpkin?"

"I don't know exactly. I didn't do the math. But thanks to the age difference, neither of us are interested in dating each other. _Ever_."

"You wouldn't be protesting this strongly if there wasn't something there," said Delia coyly.

"We're just _friends_ ," Lydia said. "That's it."

Huh. That's the first time she ever called him that, even in her own head. And she realized that she was telling the truth. Other than the Maitlands who were more like family, the insane poltergeist that once tired to forcibly marry her was the closest thing she had to a friend. And somehow that didn't bother Lydia nearly as much as she would have thought. There were certainly worse people.

"You say that _now_ , but just wait," said Delia.

All right. If her step-mother refused to drop the subject, Lydia would break out the heavy ammunition. She knew exactly how to derail Delia's attempt to discuss the topic of dating. It would increase the awkwardness, but it would work.

"Since I almost got married to a dead guy a couple months ago, it is probably safe to say I'm not interested in dating anyone right now."

And with that reminder of that chaotic night, all conversation died and they were left eating in silence. Betelgeuse certainly left an impression. Barbara and Adam shot Lydia meaningful looks, but she simply shrugged. Just because she forgave him for the misunderstanding didn't mean she wouldn't use it to escape Delia's mental matchmaking. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.

As the meal came to an end and the weird mood began to fade, Barbara and Adam vanished into the kitchen. Adam came out first carrying a pair of presents balanced in his arms. One would be from him and his wife while the other was from Dad and Delia. And a moment later, Barbara walked out with the cake.

Lydia studied the cake as everyone began to sing. It wasn't fancy or professional. The cake was a simple rectangle covered in purple frosting. In red icing, Barbara had carefully wrote out "Happy 13th Birthday, Lydia." And while some people might have drawn flowers, this cake was covered in black spiders, cats, and bats constructed out of icing to better suit the girl. The thirteen red candles just added the final touch. Lydia smiled at the delicious creation; Barbara really outdid herself.

As the song wound to a close, Lydia tried to think of a wish. Compared to a year ago in New York City, she really didn't have a lot to ask for. She finally settled for wishing that things would continue to go smoothly for a while and blew out her candles.


	11. Ghost Stories

He asked her to send him back to the Netherworld for about a day, implying there was a rather good-looking and mostly-intact ghost woman he was planning to visit. She was busy with her family anyway because of her birthday stuff, so it didn't seem like an unusual request to her. And Betelgeuse _might_ have some fun while he was there. From what he could tell, a day for Lydia would be around two or three in the Netherworld currently, giving him plenty of time. But he had a bigger agenda as he appeared on the darkened streets. He needed information.

Accessing the records that the caseworker kept was possible for someone like him. He'd spent decades with the boring bunch. He knew all the ins and outs of the place. He knew how to even do it without catching Juno's attention. But he needed something different. So Betelgeuse tracked down a weasel-ish little guy who owed him a favor and sent him to sniff out some answers.

A short time later and his sneaky informant came skulking back with what he could uncover. For obvious reasons, there wasn't much about what would happen to the living if they managed to sneak their way through a door or something. Not that he was sure it would physically work for someone with a pulse. People don't wander around with the dead on their turf. But it did turn out some of the living were poking around the zone between the land of the living and the Netherworld. And unless someone got blasted with a lot of the energy form of it, the ectoplasm didn't seem to harm someone alive.

The zone between the two locations wasn't exactly like the Netherworld. Different materials, different physics, different issues. But with a little more checking, Betelgeuse felt relatively confident that the effects wouldn't be any worse.

It shouldn't physically harm someone alive. The geography and layout might mess with their heads, but it shouldn't be enough to drive the living out of their minds. The most that might happen to them would be a bit of metaphysical improvement, brightening up their auras. It wouldn't harm or kill the living to visit the Netherworld, at least for short trips. Spending a couple weeks or a month straight might be a little much. Starting off small and working their way up would be smarter.

The next question was a matter of timing. Right now there was a difference of about twice the passage of time in the Netherworld compared to outside it. But if he waited a little longer, the time difference could increase. With a little luck, he would be able to arrange things so practically no time would pass in comparison to the Netherworld.

Which meant Betelgeuse could drag his girl all over the place to her beating heart's content and still get her back before her ignorant parents or her overprotective ghosts noticed she was gone. She would definitely enjoy it.

And that left him with one last problem to sort out after sending his informant away. _How_?

There was nothing on how to bring someone alive to the Netherworld. Well, nothing except the obvious option of killing someone and hoping they ended up as a ghost. He could open doors between the two places, even if he couldn't use them himself. That was how he summoned someone to officiate the almost-wedding. He just didn't know if the doors would work for the living and he wasn't using Lydia as a guinea pig. Not to mention the doors would always connect somewhere around the Waiting Room, which was the last place Betelgeuse wanted to dump her. So that option was off the table.

Regardless, he'd determined that a visit wouldn't kill Lydia and that he should wait a little longer with his timing. He could work on the logistics of actually getting her there later. He knew he should be able to manage it. He was the Ghost With The Most. Doing the impossible, pushing boundaries, and ignoring rules were his specialties.

Rattling a few possibilities around in his skull, Betelgeuse turned down a familiar narrow street. Now that he'd dealt with the work part of his trip, he could focus on something fun. All work and no play made a bored and grouchy poltergeist, which no one wanted to witness. Besides, he half-remembered still having some credit at Dante's Inferno Room. It would be a shame to miss out on this perfect opportunity.

* * *

The best part about the holidays was how even the teachers would get into the spirit of it. Penny preferred Christmas and Valentine's Day, but even the days leading up to Halloween could be fun. For example, their English teacher brought up the concept of oral stories that were passed along verbally rather than being written down. And when she mentioned ghost stories, they turned their Friday afternoon class into an impromptu contest of scary-story-telling to better demonstrate the concept.

"And he found the jacket he loaned her draped across the grave," finished Becky in a soft, serious voice.

A few polite claps went around the room, prompting Becky to nod in thanks. And once their teacher remarked how wide-spread the disappearing hitchhiker ghost story was and that it stretched back to the time of the horse-and-buggy, she asked for another volunteer. Penny didn't know any good stories, so she kept quiet. Laura eventually raised her hand.

"I've got one that Grandma used to tell me," Laura said. "She always told me that it was a true story that happened in Winter River a long time ago. She swore it was true."

Lowering her voice to the proper spooky tone for a ghost story, Laura adopted a somber expression. Everyone else leaned closer. They knew that Laura did a great job at telling stories. They figured it out years ago. Most of them went to camp with her at some point during their childhood. This should be good.

"Up the river from here, past the bridge and away from the roads, there is an old mill that you can only reach by foot now," she recited dramatically. "And while it is abandoned and nearly forgotten today, it once provided flour for the entire community. The miller's daughter was very beautiful and would help her father in the mill growing up. Every day, a handsome man from Winter River would arrive with a small amount of grain, just enough for a loaf of bread. He would come every day with his small amount of grain for the sole purpose of seeing her and would have an excuse to come the next day. The miller's daughter and the handsome man fell in love over time. He eventually asked her to marry him and the miller's daughter happily accepted."

Laura closed her eyes and shook her head regretfully. She certainly knew how to work her audience.

"Not long after that, a new family arrived in Winter River. And they also had a daughter, one far more beautiful than the miller's daughter. Everyone adored her. Soon the handsome young man noticed the new young woman. He saw that she was more beautiful than his fiancée and her father was richer than the miller. And, as my grandmother put it, a man's heart is often fickle and may begin to wander. Soon, he forgot his previous love and asked the new girl to marry him instead. And because the town was small, it didn't take long for the news to spread. When the miller's daughter heard about her fiancé's betrayal, her heart broke."

A couple girls looked furious on behalf of the long-gone miller's daughter. Even if not all of them were dating yet, they didn't like the idea of a man's affections being so fleeting. Male or female, no one likes being betrayed. And male or female, anyone could choose to betray someone who cares for them. They despised it because they knew it could happen to any of them someday.

"What happened next is uncertain. Some believe she threw herself into the river out of sorrow. Others believe she fell in accidentally, perhaps after tripping while running home in furious tears at the news of her fiancé's decision. Grandma always preferred the version where the miller's daughter lured the other young woman to the mill. In that version, she tried to drown the young woman for stealing the love of her fiancé, but the miller's daughter ended up drowning instead. Regardless of how it happened, they didn't find her body until the wedding day of the beautiful young woman and the handsome young man who broke his promise to the miller's daughter."

Penny saw at least one girl smirk knowingly to herself while everyone else was fairly mesmerized by Laura's story. Her voice rose and fell with her words, building the suspense. Honestly, Laura should do narration when she got older. She had a knack for it.

"In time, the old mill was abandoned and forgotten for the most part. A larger one was built downstream to replace it until people started buying flour at a store. No one wanted to go to the old building anymore. But it isn't empty. They say the ghost of the miller's daughter still lingers at that place. You can sometimes see her on the shores of the river next to the old mill, dressed in white and dripping wet. They also say she would often appear in the collapsing building itself or they would just hear someone crying from inside, the sounds of complete and utter loss echoing. And supposedly, if a pretty young woman wanders there alone, there is a chance the miller's daughter will appear. She'll appear and see another beautiful girl just like the one that tempted away the man she loved. If a pretty young girl goes there alone, the miller's daughter will try to finish what she started and drown her. Just like she tried so many years ago."

With that final warning, Laura grinned. And with the way she tilted her head and stared at her audience, it gave off a rather menacing expression. Her glare and bared teeth helped make her look a little scary and crazy. Then she almost giggled and the creepy atmosphere evaporated, provoking a few nervous laughs from the rest of the class.

"Yeah, I remember that story."

"My older brother used to scare me with it."

"My cousin swears he saw her once."

"Your cousin also swears he saw Bigfoot."

They chatted a moment longer before their teacher brought order back to the room. She discussed how the wide-spread knowledge of the local ghost story within their community further proved what she was teaching about oral storytelling traditions, but Penny didn't pay much attention. Instead, she noticed the vaguely-interested and intrigued expression on the newest girl's face.

She'd probably never heard the story before, but it certainly didn't send shivers up her spine. Even after a few months in Winter River, she was a bit of an outsider. But Penny knew she liked scary stuff. She would probably have great spooky ghost stories.

"Lydia, why don't you go next," Penny suggested.

She blinked in surprise at being volunteered likd that, but their teacher seemed to think it would be a wonderful idea. Something about exposing the students to the oral traditions of other locations. She made it sound like Lydia was from Kenya or something rather than New York City. But Lydia seemed willing to take up the challenge.

"Make no mistake, Death is all around us," she said solemnly. "Plants, animals, people. We're all destined to die, one way or another. And sometimes it is not the end. Sometimes… souls linger."

If Laura was good at storytelling, Lydia was an expert at the creepy and unnerving atmosphere necessary for a scary story. Maybe it was her pale skin combined with her dark hair and eyes, the contrast making her look even paler. Almost like a ghost herself. Maybe it was her solemn voice, like she possessed terrible knowledge that weighed her down. Or maybe it was the slight chill in the air, like the air conditioning kicked in.

"Most will cling to places and people that are familiar. A few, however, are _more_. There is one, old and powerful. He is a ghost far beyond what any can imagine. He spies and whispers from behind the mirror. He can create nightmares in reality. He shape-shifts into monstrous forms and terrifies those he encounters. He is only bound by his name, one that almost no one knows. Some claim his name is written in the stars. Others look for it in the dark, damp, forgotten places where insects and secrets lurk. But his name can be dangerous to know. Say it once and you should be safe. Say it again and you're pressing your luck. Say it a third time and he'll come for you."

The lights flickered briefly, making the girls jump. Lydia didn't even twitch. She just kept reciting her tale.

"Dangerous, wild, chaotic, and powerful, he cannot be contained once unleashed. Whatever he wants, he can and will do. Mischief or cruelty, it is solely at his whim. But if you're desperate enough and willing to take a risk, he might make a deal. If you need something, he can provide it for a cost. He can give you anything you need if he agrees to a deal." Lydia gave a small shake of her head and continued, "But beware of making a deal with him. Be sure you understand the cost. Because if you call his name three times and make a deal, he _will_ fulfill his end and will expect you to do the same. _Never_ try to cheat him out of what you promised. That will only end in suffering."

Darkness swallowed the classroom completely as the lights failed, leaving several girls yelping. Penny glanced towards the wall. No one stood by the light switch. No one turned it off as a prank.

"Calm down," said the teacher. "This is an old building. We're probably overdue for some electrical troubles. Christine, go find a janitor and see if they can do something about it."

As if in response to the request, the lights flickered back on. They waited a moment, but it soon became clear that there wouldn't be a repeat performance. Everyone slowly began to settle back down and the teacher went back to business.

"Thank you, Lydia. That was a very entertaining story. It is reminiscent of the Bloody Mary urban legend, but with a slight twist. Maybe your version even evolved from that story."

"No," said Lydia. "I can guarantee my ghost story came from somewhere completely different."

* * *

"You're a real menace to society, aren't you?" she said to the cackling ghost the instant school ended and she reached their normal meeting spot at the edge of the forest.

"Come on, Babes. A class filled with easily-scared girls who are already trying to freak each other out? How could a dead guy resist temptation like that? Especially with the material you were providing. You can really spin a good yarn, Lyds. Maybe I should hire you as my publicist." Then he reached over and ruffled her hair. "Besides, you enjoyed scaring the skirts off the girls. Your creepy words set the scene. All I did was mess with a few lights."

Lydia smiled. It _was_ pretty funny. And by his standards, extremely tame. Betelgeuse probably didn't even consider it a real haunting. It was a childish prank, pure and simple. A trick rather than a treat for Halloween. And if her classmates couldn't handle such a small trick at Halloween, then they weren't going to survive the real world for long.

"Too bad that blonde girl and her pack of lipstick goons weren't there," he continued. "Then I could have tried something a bit more interesting."

"Claire and the others are a year ahead of me. We don't have class together. And I'm not even going to ask why you were spying on my English class today."

"Pure, concentrated boredom. I just never expected your school would be as amusing as it turned out." Adopting a rather contemplative expression, he said, "Maybe I should enroll. It might be worth a few laughs."

"A six-hundred-year-old strange ghost of a grown man in an all-girls' school in small town where everyone knows everybody?" Lydia said dryly. "You'll blend right in."

He shrugged as they continued walking along the path. "I'd just say I'm a foreign exchange student from Canada or something. Meanwhile, what's with the whole 'cheating a deal with him will lead to suffering' thing? Because your ghostly godparents seem fine to me, even after stuffing me down the gullet of a sandworm."

"One, it makes the story scarier. I figured you would appreciate that. And two, I didn't say _who_ would suffer. You were eaten by a sandworm. That sounds like suffering to me."

Betelgeuse barked out a brief laugh and nodded, admitting she had a point. Lydia smirked triumphantly while suppressing a shiver as a quick gust of wind swept by. The school uniforms were thicker and came with a blazer for the colder months, but there were limits to how warm a skirt could be. Lately, he'd been using his powers to keep her warm when outside for any length of time, but he sometimes forgot. Temperature extremes weren't really noticeable for the dead, so he didn't always remember what was unpleasant for the living. And she couldn't ask because he was denying the fact he was doing anything. After all, Betelgeuse was the Ghost With The Most. He didn't do nice.

Besides, she shouldn't become too accustomed to his help. He wasn't there every day. Some days, Lydia made her trip to and from school alone. She needed to deal with the weather like everyone else.

And clearly she didn't hide her shivering well enough because the surrounding air abruptly felt warmer. Not hot, but at least warmer than late October in Connecticut should feel. She smiled her thanks at the poltergeist. Anything more direct would only cause denial and awkwardness on both sides.

"So what about the other ghost stories?" she asked. "Any of them true?"

"No idea for certain, but even you should know that a few of them are impossible. Especially that one about a ghost who'll kill and replace you. Who would come up with that one? As for some of the others, I haven't gone looking for an old mill, but there are some other ghosts in the area. So that one might be possible."

"And the hitchhiker ghost, Beej?"

"It's old and well-known enough that it _might_ be real. Someone haunting the spot she died does happen. And if she was still ignorant or in denial about being a ghost, she might ask someone for a ride."

Nodding thoughtfully, Lydia said, "And the minute she went outside her haunting perimeter, she would vanish without a trace."

"Yep, vanish. Right to Saturn and all those sandworms." He gestured vaguely and said, "But the jacket on the tombstone thing? Completely fictional. No way that part happened."

"But it _does_ make a better story."

"Everyone loves a good ghost story, Lyds."

"A ghost story is only as good as its ghost."

"No wonder your story was the best then."

Chuckling lightly, she said, "There's the infamous ego. What would we do without it?" When he merely grinned broadly, she continued, "The movie at the theater tonight is 'Poltergeist.' Still want to go?"

"While only pale imitations of me, those ghosts aren't half-bad at terrorizing a family. It'll be fun. Plus, the ghosts win. The breathers left the house by the end."

"Beej, I don't think that counts. There wasn't much of a house left."

"Details. Minor details."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The classmate with a flair for storytelling, Laura, is actually named in honor of Lady Norbert. Don't expect a huge role for her or anything, but I thought it would be a nice way to pick a name for one of my characters with limited screen time. Think of it as a thanks for some of our "Beetlejuice" discussions.
> 
> Also, most of this chapter is set about a week before Halloween, In 2003, Halloween fell on a Friday with a waxing quarter moon. The show "Danny Phantom" premiered in 2004. That would make Lydia's birthday in this story October 21, 1990. Just for reference…


	12. Halloween

It was a bit of an ongoing struggle to find activities that both she and her step-daughter could enjoy together, but Delia believed she'd found one. It appealed to the woman's artistic nature and even reminded her of sculpting. And it connected to Lydia's preference for spooky things. True, it was only a seasonal activity, but it was a start. And Delia really thought they needed to spend a little alone time together after she recently messed things up with the girl. So the two of them currently shared the kitchen with their materials.

The newspapers covered the countertop while a small army of gutted pumpkins stood in formation, their innards already torn out and dumped in a bowl. Jack-o-lanterns needed to be carved near Halloween so they wouldn't rot away too soon, but you also couldn't wait too long or all the best pumpkins would be gone. But Delia felt confident they'd timed it perfectly and the six pumpkins would be amazing when finished.

She and Lydia divided their pumpkins evenly, giving the woman three to work on. She approached them like each one was a blank canvas or a glob of fresh clay. There was infinite potential. She could do anything. Her imagination and skill with a knife were the only limitations. Delia turned them back and forth, trying to decide how to start.

Lydia, on the other hand, seemed to already have a vision in mind. She'd already plunged her knife into the side of the gourd and started sawing away. No planning or preparation needed. Delia could accept that. Sometimes an artistic vision swept in and you just had to go with it. She certainly knew the feeling.

Inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning from the heavens. Delia saw fangs and slitted eyes. Her final vision would be creepy and artistic. That would be perfect for a Jack-o-lantern. The woman mentally worked out which pieces would need to be removed and what she would need to leave in place to keep the structure from collapsing. Most of her sculpting was a work of addition while this would be one of subtraction. Only after she planned her project did she feel confident to start.

As Delia began carving, she asked, "So what are your plans for Halloween night? Any parties or anything like that?"

"The movie theater has a marathon going on that evening and I hoped to go with a friend," said Lydia, tossing a chunk of pumpkin in the bowl. "We'll probably go right after school and watch as many as possible."

"And how late do the showings go?"

Grimacing a little, she said, "Until about two in the morning? But since Halloween is on Friday, I don't have to get up early in the morning."

"You know your father would stress out if you were out that late," said Delia, carving another small chunk off.

"I know. I don't mind missing that last movie anyway. Watching 'Halloween' on Halloween night might be a little too… accurate."

Delia paused in her work, staring at the girl. The woman considered her options carefully. Should she act as a mother in this situation? A friend? An ally? What was the right thing to do?

"I'll handle Charles," she said finally. "You're a responsible young lady and you're growing up. You should be allowed to stay out late occasionally. Just have a good time with your friend, Lydia."

She stared in silence at the woman for a moment, like she couldn't believe what Delia said. Then Lydia's eyes dropped back down to her pumpkin. But there was a small smile on her face now.

"Thanks, Delia. I appreciate it."

Even small victories could be important ones. Delia smiled to herself. Both the bonding and the Jack-o-lantern carving were going well. She'd just finished the eyes and could now start working on the needle-like fangs.

"So, do your Halloween plans include your friend, Benjamin?" she asked carefully.

Her voice gaining a little tension, Lydia said, "Yes, I plan to go with Beej. As _friends_."

"I know, I know," Delia said quickly. "He's your friend. And I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable before. That's not what I intended. If you say he's just a friend, then that's what he is."

Lydia stared at the woman, her expression mildly suspicious and uneasy. Then she slowly gave another weak smile and went back to carving her pumpkin. Maybe Delia was managing to repair any inadvertent rifts she caused by pushing too hard. Progress with her step-daughter took effort and she didn't want it all to unravel because of a mistake. She _wanted_ to get along with Lydia better. She wanted to try.

"I'm happy you're making friends," she continued. "I know the last few months have been difficult for you. Or rather, the last few years. And I haven't always made things any easier. But I think they're getting better. Right? You seem happier now."

"I am," said Lydia, speaking firmly even as she kept her eyes locked on her Jack-o-lantern. "I'm happy here. Dad, Barbara, Adam… you? I'm actually pretty happy now."

Delia smiled slightly at her words. Glancing down at her pumpkin, she was pleased to see how the scary expression she was carving looked so far. Lydia would appreciate the spookiness. He loved the creepy and scary.

"And I'm sure making friends help too," Delia said. "I remember how much easier school can be with a few good friends to stand with you."

"More like one friend."

"Well, you may think I'm the last person to believe this, but one really good friend can be far more valuable than a whole group of them."

She didn't even have to look to know that Lydia directed a brief look of disbelief at the woman. Lydia had met Delia's "friends" before. Some were relatively decent like Otho, but others were the types of people who would stab you in the back at the first scent of blood in the water. They were helpful for her career and they could even be enjoyable to spend time with, but Delia knew that very few of her friends could be depended on during an emergency or help during a crisis. And Lydia knew that. But that was also why Delia knew how valuable a single true friend could be.

Delia frowned briefly as she realized her Jack-o-lantern was starting to look remarkably like the snake form of that horrible ghost. The woman instantly began changing it. While she was willing to draw inspiration from her experiences for her art, she couldn't use him for a model for the Jack-o-lanterns. She was doing this to bond with Lydia. And the last thing her step-daughter needed was a reminder of that creepy and disgusting ghost.

"And I don't want to make you feel pressured into starting to date before you're ready," Delia continued. "That's not what I was trying to do that evening. I mean, it would be nice to talk to you about boys and dating. It is something I always thought we could talk about together someday. But you don't have to date anyone unless _you_ want to and not until you decide it's time. Don't let anyone push you into something before you're ready. Not some boy, the girls at school, or even your father and me. People will push you around if you let them. So _don't_ let them."

She received another strange look from Lydia. The girl probably never expected this from Delia. But the woman spent her childhood having parents who tried to control her until her artistic soul rebelled. Lydia deserved better. She deserved the advice that Delia never received.

Delia never planned to be a mother, but she was _trying_ to do it right. And that meant fixing her mistakes and doing what was best for her step-daughter.

"I won't let them," said Lydia. "And… thanks."

Lydia turned her Jack-o-lantern around, showing off her work. While Delia went for the more traditional idea of carving out gruesome faces, Lydia chose to do something more creative. She crafted a spider lurking in her web. Delia felt rather impressed by how it turned out. She would have probably broken the thin sections that represented the webbing if she tried it. Pumpkins just weren't Delia's medium of choice.

Lydia reached for her next pumpkin as Delia put the finishing touches on hers. She'd managed to add a few details to lessen the resemblance to the snake form of that ghost. It seemed scary, but less familiar. That's what she wanted. A spooky face that didn't look like that crazy ghost.

Delia tried to come up with the next design as Lydia spun her new pumpkin around. The girl seemed more thoughtful about it this time, staring at the orange surface as if searching for answers. Eventually the girl gave a nod of decision and picked the knife back up.

"I _would_ like to meet this Benjamin eventually though," said Delia.

She saw Lydia's expression change at the exact moment the knife jerked. Then she yelped in pain and the blade hit the floor with a clatter. By the time Delia tossed down her utensil and hurried over, Lydia was clutching her bleeding hand.

"Lydia?" called Barbara, the cry of pain making her ignore her agreement to give the pair some space for the project. When she saw the bleeding that Delia tried to slow with a dishtowel, the ghost quickly said, "Hold on. I'll get the first aid kit."

As Barbara vanished back out of the kitchen, Delia asked, "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I was just clumsy," she hissed through gritted teeth. "It was an accident."

"Well, try to be more careful. We don't want you getting hurt again."

* * *

Lydia fiddled with the gauze and tape wrapped around her palm, waiting patiently. The cut still stung sharply, but it was fairly shallow. They cleaned and bandaged it at home rather than going to the hospital like Dad wanted to. Of course, the closest hospital was in the next town, but distance didn't play much of a factor in determining if it was serious enough to warrant a trip. It was honestly a minor injury and one that they shouldn't worry about. It was mostly just annoying.

Dad and Delia didn't know she was actually in the front yard, just far enough that she wouldn't be obvious from the house. She told them she went to meet a friend and that was true. They just assumed that meant heading into town. Instead, she spread a blanket out on the front lawn while wrapping a second around her shoulders, watching the stars come out and the Jack-o-lanterns glow. Lydia rather liked how they turned out, accidental cut aside. Creepy faces and figures framed the door with their lights. The crisp autumn air smelled like falling leaves. Trees occasionally rustled further down the hill. Everything seemed peaceful.

Then chaos arrived and sat down beside her. A smirk on his face and his usual strange charisma in place, the poltergeist glanced towards her handiwork.

"Nice Jack-o-lanterns, Babes," he said. And tugging at the blanket on her shoulders, he added, "And look at that. You're actually paying attention to the weather. She _can_ be taught."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yeah, I brought a blanket this time. Like it is _such_ a burden to help a girl out with the cold."

"Hey, I can do far better things with my power than playing personal heater. You must be imagining things."

Lydia held up her bandaged hand so it would draw his attention and asked, "How about this? Is fixing this sort of thing more your style or do you just save your power for your outfits and tricks?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the gauze wrapping. Betelgeuse even grabbed her arm and turned her hand. She didn't miss how he glanced carefully to make certain that the bandages weren't covering injuries to her wrist. Apparently when your first conversation involves wanting to commit suicide, it left some concerns when you show up with blood-stained gauze.

"What did you do, Lyds?" he asked.

"Cut my hand carving Jack-o-lanterns by accident," said Lydia with a shrug. "It wasn't too bad. Just stings a lot. Think you can make it less annoying?"

Releasing his grip on her, Betelgeuse said, "Since you already wrapped it up, there's not much more I can do to help. Slapping a bandage on it is exactly what I would have done."

"Seriously? You're the Ghost With The Most. You regularly make the laws of physics sit down and shut up. You can turn into a snake, conjure up tacky clothes, reshape and sound-proof walls, add an extra seat to my bike, and stop Barbara and Adam from vanishing mid-exorcism. And yet the best you can do for a shallow cut is giving me a bandage? Anyone can do that."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Lyds. There are things I _can_ do and things I _can't_." Then he paused and clarified, "Well, it's a little more complicated than that. There are things I can freely do without any hesitation or thought. Things that Juno would frown on, but would still have to let me do. Things I can loophole my way around. Things I can technically do if I wanted, but I usually don't want to. Things I have the power to do, but would break too many rules to risk doing it casually. And then there are things I literally can't do no matter what I try. Of course, that's the smallest list, but those things do exist."

He finished counting them off on his fingers, brushing the dirt off his sleeve casually. Lydia tugged her blanket around her shoulders more tightly as she quietly filed the new information away.

"Some of the stuff I can't do is more personalized. You already know about them. I can't say my name. And can't cross between here and the Netherworld without someone saying the magic words three times. But there are a few things that _no_ ghost in the Netherworld can do, no matter how powerful. Not even me."

"Like handling a cut on my hand?" asked Lydia.

Betelgeuse leaned back. The angle looked rather awkward and painful without any support. But if she pretended there was an invisible reclining chair, his position seemed more natural.

He continued, "We can't fix the living. At all. Doesn't matter if it is a paper-cut or half a dozen broken bones and crushed organs. My power can't do a thing about it. As far as I can tell, it has to do with keeping us from affecting who lives and who dies. You know, fixing a slashed throat or something before they bleed out. They don't like us killing someone who should stay alive, so why should they be any happier about us keeping someone alive who should be dying? So healing the living is completely off the table for the dead. Best I can do is create a bandage. Other than that, I can't do much more than someone alive about your hand."

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I guess I'll survive. Like I said, it is more annoying than anything. At least I'm right-handed. And Delia helped finish the Jack-o-lanterns."

"I told you. They look good, Lyds," he said with a nod. "Especially the one that looks a little like me. Your work?"

"Delia's. The spider is mine. And the resemblance to you is pretty weak."

"Come on. I can't use a photograph or a reflection for comparison, but I know that looks like me."

"You're crazy, Beej."

"What's your point?"

His matter-of-fact tone and instant response yanked some laughter out of her. And the poltergeist wound up cackling wildly in return. Under the stars and staring at the glowing pumpkins, everything seemed perfect.

* * *

Halloween, at least in the current time period and local culture, was an interesting event for the dead. The living dressed up in colorful outfits and begged for candy or pulled pranks if they were feeling mischievous. And throughout the evening, they would expect and embrace the spooky stuff they would never consider the rest of the year. The living was more like to catch a glimpse of a ghost at this time of the year. They didn't ignore the strange and unusual because that was what people expected at Halloween. And because they expected it, the living would assume that the ghosts they encountered were just part of the general chaos of the holiday. They wrote off the experiences as childish pranks or their overactive imaginations. That meant plenty of fun for the dead without Juno getting all twitchy about it.

He certainly appreciated Halloween. People started poking around the supernatural at that point, hoping to be frightened. And he could certainly deliver on that. Any chance he got to sweet-talk an adventurous soul looking for a Halloween thrill into letting him out made the entire holiday worth it.

Of course, on the Halloweens that he managed to wiggle his way out, Betelgeuse usually spent it a little differently. Usually it involved more chaos, scaring, and the living running into the night screaming. But, as he sat in a dark theater in the balcony and watching horror films with Lydia, Betelgeuse could admit that his current plan didn't seem that bad.

They headed over as soon as her classes were over, though he would be perfectly fine with her skipping. The girl was just too good to go through with it. But it didn't take long for them to claim a cozy spot in the balcony seats like usual. With a bucket of popcorn, soda, and candy for Lydia and a pocket full of creepy-crawlies for him, the pair camped out to watch movies for the rest of the evening.

Laughter, whispered comments, and the occasional jump of surprise were the only sounds to emerge from their corner of the theater. The shrieks and gasps of fear came from everyone else. Watching Lydia's amusement, the occasional fright from the rest of the audience, and even the movies themselves kept him thoroughly entertained.

Hours passed as monsters and murderers alike appeared on screen. Some were hilariously bad, some were just funny, a few were impressive and worth taking notes from, and a couple even managed to give him pause. Those few particular characters would have made him uneasy if they were real and he was still alive. Complete psychos. But they weren't real and he wasn't alive, so it mostly just left him with nothing to say. But whoever picked out the movie choices for the marathon clearly had great taste. Both Betelgeuse and Lydia enjoyed every film in the lineup.

Lydia seemed quieter during the last movie of the night. He figured she just used up all the good comments during the earlier films. So he just kept munching on a beetle that made the mistake of crawling onto his sleeve and watching that Michael guy wander around the screen.

But as the credits began to roll and the lights came up, he noticed the truth was far simpler. Head leaned forward and breathing slowly, Lydia apparently dozed off. He stared at the girl a moment, caught somewhere between surprise and bemusement at the situation. Betelgeuse knew she didn't usually stay out this late. Or rather early. And the living required sleep a lot more than the dead.

He waited until the rest of the audience left, stumbling tiredly out of their seats and stretching their stiff muscles. The people who actually worked there were too drained and too eager to crawl home to care, perfectly happy leave cleanup for daylight hours. They wouldn't be paying much attention. Once he felt certain the living would ignore the pair, he scooped up the sleeping girl and carried her out of the building as casually as someone would a bag of groceries.

The extremely early hour meant nearly all the other lights were out. Businesses and homes alike were dark and silent. Even the most enthusiastic trick-or-treater would have retired from their hunt. There was no one to witness him carrying Lydia.

Betelgeuse knew he could just wake her up. And he knew he could walk back to her house, meandering across the bridge and up that hill. But it was dark and cold, so she needed to get inside before she got sick. Illness didn't hit as hard after doctors stopped randomly guessing on how to treat people, but that didn't mean it would be good for her. So he opted for the faster option. Grabbing her bike with a thin thread of power, the poltergeist took to the air.

Betelgeuse didn't typically fly as much as some ghosts. Float, yes. Reaching real heights, speeds, and maneuverability in the air? Not his style. That didn't mean he couldn't pull it off to an extent. He flew silently towards the haunted house on the hill, Lydia's bike trailing behind like a strange metal kite.

The girl seemed to be a heavy sleeper. He kept most of the wind and cold from touching her, but not even the movement through the air or the moonlight disturbed her. Lydia just rested her head against his shirt. The ghostly chill didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. He grinned slightly at the girl. She was certainly a unique person.

He landed smoothly on the front lawn and directed the bicycle to take up position next to the stairs. Again, he briefly considered waking her up and sending her inside. Another glance at her peaceful expression convinced him otherwise. Reaching out with his senses, Betelgeuse determined by their auras that the parents were in their bedroom and the ghosts were in the attic. None of them would notice.

Resizing the window took almost no effort after so much practice. The moment he could fit through, he floated up with Lydia in his arms. Carefully and quietly, Betelgeuse set her down on her bed, pulling back her blanket with a flick of power. Another bit of power went to taking off her shoes. And after a brief moment of hesitation, he went for another instant wardrobe change moment to change her school uniform into a pair of black pajamas. A nice and soft long-sleeve shirt and pants combo that would be much more comfortable to sleep in that the skirt and blazer. And _not_ tacky. Her original clothes were left neatly folded on her desk. And while she shifted slightly, she didn't awaken during the transformation of the clothes on her.

Once she was settled comfortably on her pillow, he pulled the blanket over her. Then, feeling uncomfortable about being this helpful and nice, Betelgeuse shoved the neatly folded clothes onto the floor in a messy pile. It was a small thing, but he couldn't be too cooperative. It went against his nature.

Even with his issues judging ages for the living, Betelgeuse felt she looked younger while asleep. It was harder to remember that he'd originally mistaken her for an adult. She seemed so much more peaceful, innocent, and vulnerable. While sleeping, Lydia looked exactly like what she truly was. A child. She was a young child and his girl. And he was definitely keeping her.

With Lydia sleeping soundly in her bed, there was nothing left for him to do at the moment. The poltergeist gave her a final glance. This was probably his favorite Halloween in centuries.

"Night, Lyds," he whispered, his voice barely a soft croak.

And with that, he slipped out and fixed the window back to normal behind him.


	13. Still I Venture Someplace Scary

This was such a bad idea. This was the like the pinnacle of bad ideas. If there were awards for bad ideas, this one would win the silver medal. The gold would of course go to her idea of calling him out for two days of freedom with no guarantees that he wouldn't burn down the town or something. Granted, _that_ idea worked out in the end. She was happy now that she gave him a second chance. But she knew it was originally a bad and dangerous idea that could have easily led to disaster. And Lydia suspected strongly that her current idea would _definitely_ end in disaster.

But she also knew it needed to happen. Her only friend at the moment was a poltergeist. Barbara and Adam would continue to worry unless they could see that there was more to Beej than he generally showed. They needed to get to know him beyond that crusty, rude, and disgusting outer shell. And that meant another meeting between her ghostly godparents and the poltergeist. Preferably one that didn't end in sandworms.

She'd already handled the first part of the plan. She informed both parties of her intentions. Adam and Barbara expressed their doubts that meeting him again would lead to anything good, but they agreed to it. They knew it was important to her and trusted her. So they agreed despite their concerns.

And Betelgeuse…? He thought it sounded like the most hilarious joke ever. He laughed when he heard the suggestion, cackling wildly. Lydia eventually threw a shoe at his head to make him stop. He didn't take it seriously, but Betelgeuse eventually agreed to go along with her crazy idea. She suspected he chose to meet with them again because of the entertainment potential, but Lydia would take what she could get.

Once she convinced them to meet, Lydia just needed to work on the timing and location. She waited until Dad and Delia was out, picking up groceries for Thanksgiving. She knew that would take a while. The local store didn't have all the more unique ingredients for Delia's plans. So Lydia took this opportunity to call her ghostly godparents down to the living room. While it might bring back some unpleasant memories of the wedding, even after remodeling the room back to the Maitlands' design, Lydia figured it would be more of a neutral ground than the attic and there wasn't enough space in her room.

Once she'd prepared everything possible, Lydia went forward with her bad idea. Standing in the middle of the living room, she gave Barbara and Adam a reassuring smile. Their expressions were a little less certain. They held each others' hands, exchanging brief looks with each other, before giving her a nod.

"Betelgeuse," Lydia said slowly. "Betelgeuse." She closed her eyes, knowing that even the best case scenario would be pretty rough. "Betelgeuse."

She expected him to appear right behind her. He seemed to have a preference for that. Maybe it was a habit of doing it with people he wanted to freak out; lurking right behind them without them realizing someone was around. Or maybe he thought it would startle her less than just popping into view right in front of her face. Lydia honestly couldn't guess. All she knew was that more often than not, he showed up behind her when she called him.

So she wasn't prepared for the dismayed yelp from Barbara, prompting the girl to open her eyes. She looked just in time to see her ghostly godmother jumping away from Betelgeuse, holding his hands out defensively with a suggestive grin across her face. Lydia already regretted her decision.

"I _knew_ you had to be hiding something under that shapeless dress," he said. "Didn't get more than a quick pat down, but I certainly wouldn't mind seeing more. Just ditch the dork in the plaid shirt for the night."

"Keep your slimy hands off me," snapped Barbara as Adam moved in front of her protectively.

"'Slimy?' My hands? You've got it all wrong, Doll," he continued with a slightly manic look in his eyes. "Moldy, sure. But not slimy."

"Not helping, Beej," muttered Lydia, burying her face in her hands.

"Wasn't trying to help. Last time I was helpful around these two stiffs, I ended up having a close and personal view of the gullet of a sandworm," he said.

Yep. Complete and total disaster. He wasn't attacking the Maitlands, but he seemed to be pretty determined not to make this easy either. The problem with trying to work with such a chaotic guy was that sometimes he flat out didn't feel like being at all cooperative. Especially when dealing with someone he still held a small grudge against. Lydia started contemplating the pros and cons of bashing her head against a wall for a while.

"Honestly, I'm still trying to figure the two of you out," he continued, clapping a hand on Adam's shoulder and ignoring the look of discomfort. "The dull, boring, and unsatisfying man in flannel and vicious, albeit good-looking woman who wears frumpy outfits. Not really anything to write home about, but far more trouble than most of the saps who take the bait." He leered briefly at Barbara again and added, "Though if she ever feels like dumping the dork and trying out someone more interesting, I might ignore the sandworm thing temporarily and see how it turns out."

And that was the end of this particular visit. The Maitlands looked furious, he clearly didn't intend to cooperate more than the bare minimum, and he wouldn't stop hitting on Barbara. Lydia would rather live quite happily without the memory of watching Betelgeuse trying to pick up her pseudo parental figure. She didn't need the mental images or new reasons for Delia to suggest therapy.

"And everyone back to their separate corners," she said dryly. "Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse."

She caught a glimpse of him sticking his tongue out at the Maitlands before the poltergeist gave her a shrug and vanished. She just shook her head tiredly. How in the world someone over six hundred years old could act like such a child, Lydia would never understand. Even trying to scold him wouldn't do much good. This was just what happened when dealing with a crazy, chaotic, and immature ghost.

"Sorry about that," Lydia muttered. "We need to work on his definition of 'being on his best behavior.' At least he kept the snakes out of it this time."

"It's not your fault," said Barbara, rubbing her arms briefly as she grimaced. "You were just trying to do something nice."

"I'll throw something at his head later," she promised.

"Don't do anything that'll give him a reason to get mad at you," warned Adam.

Lydia shrugged and said, "He'll survive. I've whacked him with a pillow before and it barely fazed him. And besides, he deserves it."

* * *

All right, Betelgeuse had to admit that Lydia wouldn't be happy about him messing with her ghostly pseudo-parents. She wanted some form of peaceful existence between him and the Maitlands, a little like how Betelgeuse and Lydia started out with a truce before it developed into whatever it was now. But even if he was grateful for them interrupting the almost-wedding, Betelgeuse wasn't quite ready to be very chummy with them after the sandworm thing.

But as much fun as it was to just mess with the pair, he'd purposefully provoked them for a more important reason. Lydia's summons happened at a very inconvenient moment. And even though he loved hanging around the living, Betelgeuse needed to get back to the Netherworld immediately and annoying everyone in range was the fastest method.

When Lydia sent him back, he reappeared in the dark and musty sitting room he'd previously been occupying in the Netherworld. She didn't have a haunting site of her own, so the bone-thin and soot-smeared ghost kept a cozy place on one of the twisted streets. She bore the blue-gray skin of suffocation, so he guessed the old woman died more from the smoke inhalation rather than the fire they tried to burn her with. The idiots were even too anxious to have a proper trial for her and skipped straight to the execution.

She wasn't really a witch in life or death, even if that's what at least a few people in her village claimed during all that inquisition stuff, but she was smart. She wasn't as old and experienced as him and she certainly couldn't beat him when it came to knowing the rules, but she was creative and good at figuring out theoretical stuff. In another place and time, she might have been a well-respected scientist in life.

"Sorry about that, Cristina," he said, switching back to her native Spanish as he settled into the chair next to her. "I had to take care of something. You were saying you had an answer?"

The wrinkled and dead woman smiled and said, "You always did present the most unique challenges, Old Ghost. Only you would want to bring someone alive here."

"Hey, why should I do the expected?" Betelgeuse said with a shrug. "So what are your ideas on how to get someone alive over here _without_ snapping their neck and killing them?"

"I do," said Cristina. "But what about my payment?"

He grinned at the wrinkly woman. Over three hundred years old, Cristina knew exactly what she wanted out of her afterlife. And she tended to make reasonable demands for her help. Digging into his pocket, Betelgeuse pulled out a package of chocolate-striped cookies that he'd snagged during one of his last trips out. Cristina happily accepted the edible payment with a nod of thanks.

"You know how to make a woman feel appreciated, Old Ghost," said Cristina. Opening the package and taking a bite of one of the cookies, she said, "The fact you can cross between the two worlds without the use of portals suggests you have the power to do what you want. Summoning and banishing most of us take a bit more work. But combining your power with a reworked version of a normal summons might let you bring someone along. Just make sure to hold onto whoever you want to bring with you."

"And you're sure the process won't turn someone mortal inside out or stop their heart or any other weird side effects?"

"Not unless you want that to happen to them. We both know your powers are versatile and do what you want. If you decide to drag someone alive here, they'll arrive in one piece," she said. "Though I still have no idea why you're interested in this odd idea, Old Ghost."

Shrugging, Betelgeuse said, "You know how I am. Got to shake things up every now and then to avoid boredom." Grabbing a beetle scuttling next to him and popping it into his mouth, he continued, "You said I'd need a reworked version of a summons to make it work."

Cristina pulled a piece of parchment from her sleeve and passed it over to him. She wasn't a poltergeist, so she still wore he singed dress and shawl that she died in. She also didn't keep up with the times as much since Cristina spent her entire afterlife in the Netherworld. The closest thing to modern culture that she dealt with were the snack foods that Betelgeuse and others paid her with. So he wasn't surprised she wrote the altered incantation on thick parchment instead of normal paper.

"If anything would work, this should do the trick," she said. "Just have the mortal recite this while in contact with you and they'll come along in the process. And since I assume that they are American since that's where most of business lately has been, I even translated into English to make it easier."

He grinned and said, "Thanks, Cristina. If this works, I'll toss in a couple of chocolate bars next time I visit."

"I won't be here, Old Ghost," she said simply.

"What? Why not?" Betelgeuse asked, blinking in surprise.

"I've decided to move on. I've lingered too long as a ghost and I'm tired. I'm ready for what comes next," said Cristina, smiling gently. "I should have probably left over a century ago when my time was finished. But now I feel like it is the right thing to do. So once I finish my cookies, I intended to complete the last of my paperwork and leave."

He was quiet for a moment as he considered her words. It shouldn't have surprised him that Cristina wanted to move on. All ghosts moved on eventually. And most ghosts would have left long before three centuries passed. He was a bit of an exception. Betelgeuse didn't feel that urge himself, but he'd seen plenty of other ghosts leave over time.

"You do what you got to do," he said finally. "I'm certainly not going to stop you. I'm just glad I got this last bit of help before you left."

"You don't fool me. No matter how stubborn you might be, Old Ghost,' said Cristina, "you'll make the same decision someday. We all do."

"But not today and not anytime soon. I've got more interesting things to do."

* * *

_Well, it was bound to happen eventually. Betelgeuse and the Maitlands ended up in the same room as the same time. It went about as smoothly as I expected. At least Dad and Delia weren't home at the time._

_I don't think they'll ever be comfortable with each other. I love Adam and Barbara. They're wonderful people. But first impressions are hard to shake sometimes and Beej really knows how to make an impression. Between the snake thing, dropping Dad over the railing, sending Dad's old boss and his wife through the ceiling (who blamed the memories after the "freak accident" on head injuries), nearly marrying me, and the fact his personality has a lot of rough edges, Beej did a great job making them hate and fear him._

_So I really didn't have much hope of a peaceful encounter. And I was right. Beej hit on Barbara again (which is still really weird for me to watch), insulted Adam, and complained about the sandworm incident again before I managed to separate everyone._

_But at least no one attacked each other. Or tried to attack each other. We all know Beej is too strong to actually be beaten by Barbara and Adam directly, but no one tried in the two minutes they were around each other. I consider that a success._

_Still, I think I'm going to keep them away from each other as much as possible._

_**Come on, Babes. It wasn't completely my fault.** _

_You were trying to provoke them._

_**Just a little. They're fun to rile up.** _

_And did you have to try and touch my sort of godmother?_

_**I was trying to see what kind of figure she has under that shapeless dress. It completely hides anything interesting.** _

_Please stop talking about this, Beej. I really don't want to hear you talk about her like that. It is so weird and creepy. And she's married. Remember that little detail?_

_**We don't have to tell her dork husband anything.** _

_Yeah, you're definitely not getting near them again. Just stick to mirrors in the house. We'll hang out somewhere else. Like in town. Or the graveyard. Or anywhere that doesn't involve you commenting on Barbara's appearance or trying to start a fight._

_**You really have to take all the fun out of this, don't you?** _

_I'll make it up for you. The pet store in the next town over has some crickets they sell for people who keep lizards. I'll pick you up some next time I go._

_**You're the greatest, Lyds.** _

Lydia smiled as she read back over her journal entry from almost two weeks ago. Any annoyance she'd felt at the time had long since faded. Betelgeuse was Betelgeuse. Acting like a lecherous and creepy man and an immature kid at the same time, especially when most people would be acting serious, was part of his personality. She already knew that. It was hard to blame him for being himself. She would simply have to come up with a different strategy if she ever wanted to try it again. But for now, Lydia was willing to let the matter go.

Slipping her journal into her newest hiding place, inside her pillowcase, Lydia glanced towards the window. Snow fell lazily from the sky, covering everything in soft whiteness. She'd already taken a few pictures of the scenery, capturing the peaceful and serene landscape. Now she found herself wondering what she should do while it was cold outside. Hanging around her room sounded better than braving the chilly weather, but she felt too wired for that. She needed to do something that involved movement. She felt bored.

As if summoned by thought instead of words, the sound of knuckles rapping on glass came from across the room. Lydia turned and saw the ghost peering at her through the mirror. Her grin matched his and she didn't even need to think.

"Come on out, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse," she said. As he materialized on her stool, Lydia continued, "Have a good time? Any dates or whatever?"

"Well, 'date' would imply something a little different than a visit to Dante's Inferno Room, but yeah. I had a good time. Managed not to be bored in the Netherworld. That was a minor miracle."

Ignoring the implications of the first part of the statement, Lydia said, "I _still_ can't believe anyone could get bored there."

"I've told you. It gets old fast, Lyds. I've long since seen anything of interest there."

"Still, I like hearing about the place. Can you tell me more about the Netherworld?"

Betelgeuse grinned at her, the expression clearly victorious and smug. Lydia instantly realized that not only was he up to something, but he'd also made significant progress with his plan already. She just had no idea what it might be. She also didn't know if she should be worried or not. There was no predicting what went on in his head or what Betelgeuse might consider a good plan.

"You keep asking about the Netherworld," he said casually. "Apparently what I've already told you isn't good enough. You're too curious for your own good, Babes. Just telling you random trivia is never going to be enough. You need something better. And I've got just the thing to do the job."

Frowning briefly in confusion, Lydia asked, "And what would that be?"

"Nothing major. Just a bit more show in my show-and-tell," he said with a smirk.

Lydia blinked in surprise and confusion. She tried to figure out what he was talking about, but kept coming up blank. She didn't have a clue what he meant. The chaotic poltergeist was acting crazier than usual.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly at her obvious confusion, Betelgeuse pulled something out of his jacket pocket and said, "Look, Lyds, it isn't that complicated. Just say exactly what is written and even _your_ curiosity will be taken care of."

He handed over the object to her. Lydia felt surprised to realize it was old-fashioned parchment rather than normal paper. It was thicker and darker than the material manufactured now. The handwriting was elegant and neat, far neater than anything more people could manage these days. Lydia suspected someone else wrote it because she couldn't imagine Betelgeuse's handwriting looking anything like that.

She silently read over the handful of lines, the type of thing that could easily be part of a nursery rhyme or something girls might chant while skipping rope. They seemed vaguely familiar, similar to something she'd read in the Handbook or the other one that Dad kept unsuccessfully trying to understand. It took her a moment to remember the incantation for a summons since she'd never saw the need for one. The words were similar, but not quite the same.

Lydia glanced between the parchment and the poltergeist a few times. She still didn't know for certain what he had in mind, but she decided to just go with it. Whatever Betelgeuse planned, she knew it would be interesting. It wasn't like she had anything better to do that afternoon.

Apparently sensing that she was about to start, Betelguese moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and slung a hand onto Lydia's shoulder casually. She raised her eyebrow briefly at his actions, but didn't say a word about it.

"Knowing that I should be wary," she recited slowly, "still I venture someplace scary. Ghostly hauntings now turn loose. Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse."

She expected him to vanish as she used his name since that was what always happened. But as the last syllable left her lips, everything vanished around her. Lydia felt herself being swiftly pulled along through emptiness, her stomach rebelling and her body feeling the sensation of falling. It took her breath away unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

Then less than a second later, it was over. Lydia fell to the ground as they left the emptiness, too stunned to catch herself. She stayed there a moment, gasping in shock and trying to adjust to the sudden darkness.

"I'll need to work on the landings a little. Not as easy with a passenger. Next time, I'll know to compensate for that," he muttered. A hand took her arm and carefully pulled Lydia to her feet. "You all right, Lyds? You still seem to be breathing and have all your limbs at least."

She finally looked up and saw her surroundings properly. This wasn't her room. It wasn't anywhere she'd been before. And because she wasn't stupid, Lydia realized where she was and she knew that no living soul had ever stood there before. That knowledge took her breath away and left her staring in awe around her. It took her a moment to find her voice again. But when she did, there was only one thing she could say.

"Is this… the Netherworld?"


End file.
